The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five
by SharKohen
Summary: It's a game to die for: a charming blonde with 70ft worth of hair; a 'career' who couldn't - wouldn't kill; a determined redhead eager to make her mark; a shepherd boy the Capitol loves and a cryokinetic mutant who'd do anything to protect her sister. The Big Four Frozen/ROTBTFD Hunger Games AU, with deviations. Other Disney Dreamworks people too.
1. Prologue: The Day Before

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Previously _'The Game of Five'_

**Summary: It's a game to die for: a charming blonde with 70ft worth of hair; a 'career' who couldn't - wouldn't kill; a determined redhead eager to make her mark; a shepherd boy the Capitol loves and a cryokinetic mutant who'd do anything to protect her sister. The Big Four Frozen or Rise of the Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons/Hunger Games AU, with deviations. Other Disney Dreamworks people too.**

Prologue: The Day Before

* * *

**District 12**

There was a knock on her door. And another. And another.

"Elsa? I know you're in there."

Elsa's eyelids fluttered open as she drowsily noted that the break between each set of knocks was getting shorter and shorter. She squeezed her eyes shut again, curling up more tightly in her bed, as if that could shut the rapping out of her head.

Then she heard the door creak open and she knew she had lost.

"Elsa!" She could feel a grab on her arm, yanking it carelessly. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Elsa considered faking some snores, but decided against it. She didn't snore much in her sleep, unlike her sister. In what she hoped was a firm voice - "Anna, go back to sleep."

"I can't!" The other girl announced fervidly, leaping onto Elsa's bed. With a touch of drama, she declared, "The _sky_'s awake! So _I'm_ awake! So we," – _jump_ – "must" – _jump_. Elsa waited for the last word to come out, but when there was just silence. She dared to wonder, though with much disbelief, whether her sister had suddenly decided to leave her alone, or maybe given in to her own exhaustion and had fallen asleep.

She wished too early.

The blow came in the form of a yell straight in the ear. "PLLLLAAAYYYY!"

"Ahh!" Elsa leapt up from her bed, covering the ear that Anna had just nearly deafened. The younger girl merely threw her head back, giggling to like there was no tomorrow, while her elder sister shook her head vigorously, trying to get the ringing sound out of her head.

"A tad childish, don't you think Anna?" She dryly remarked at the shamelessly laughing brunette. "And you're supposed to be sixteen next week."

"C'mon! Let's go do something fun! I've got the extra candle that Hans gave me last week, and some chocolate from the shop! We can stay up and eat! We can talk! Oooh, maybe ghost stories! Or village gossip! _Or_…"- a wicked glint appeared in her eye, - "boys."

Elsa rolled her eyes. Ever since Anna and that pretty boy, _Hans_, became an item – and _only_ after a huge fight with Elsa - Anna had been going in this boy-crazy loop. To be fair, she had been doing that for quite sometime before that. Elsa tacked it down to teenage hormones. She supposed her already hyperactive sister would get over it, eventually.

With a level tone, Elsa said, "Candle should been saved for when we need to work nights. Chocolate's a rare treat, so we should try to save them for your sixteenth. Just in case."

"Ever the future-oriented," Anna lamented, pulling a disgusted face, but Elsa knew that she understood. Last year, both of them groped and pinched just to save up a little to buy just a bar of chocolate to celebrate Anna's fourteenth. Elsa even chucked her name in the bowl secretly for a little more tessarae to save some cash. In the end, all the birthday money went into food.

Things had been so much easier when their parents were around.

"Get some rest, Anna." Elsa told her sister, dropping herself back on the bed. "Tomorrow's a big day." She wasn't sleepy, but she suddenly didn't feel like talking to her sister anymore.

"Yeah, I guess-o." Elsa noted that Anna's tone mellowed. A pang of guilt shot through the elder girl's chest.

_Tomorrow_. That's why Anna came in. They both knew what day tomorrow was, and she was just trying to forget. The first year Anna's name was put in the bowl, she stayed up all night alternating between mimicking the ticking of the clock and doing her math homework. And she _never_ did math homework.

Just as Elsa thought of saying something comforting, she heard the door close, and silence reigned once more. Of course, the blonde knew who really shut the door on who.

The pale blue light of the moon filtered through the broken blinds on her covers. Adjusting herself to face the window, she raised her head, staring at the unbroken white face of moon painted against the black sky. It was whole, perfect and pure.

So unlike the world it gazed on.

She heard a crackle sound and startled. She glanced down at her hands, and noticed that a white patch of frost had formed in her palm. Quickly shaking off the white stuff off herself, she grabbed the green pair of gloves that lay on her side table, chanting softly to herself, "_Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel."_

Elsa laid her head back on her pillow and shut her eyes, tucking her now-gloved hands under her pillow, hoping that she'd plunge into dreamless sleep before the entire room got iced again.

* * *

**District 10**

"Jack, I'm scared." She was shivering slightly - in part cold, in part fear, he suspected.

He draped his poncho over her shoulder, sitting himself in front of her. " And why's that, kiddo? You're not even old enough to get your name reaped."

"Yes, but you are," she told him.

That one thing he loved about kids. They didn't go in the big loops, with long boring, unrelated stories like grown up did. They were innocent, unassuming and honest.

A mischievous grin crept on his face. "_Awwwww _\- and you'll miss your big bro if that happens, eh?"

Her lips curled into a pout, as she punched him with her scrawny fists over and over. They didn't hurt, but eventually Jack found tumbling himself of the bed, down to the wood of the floor, futilely trying to protect himself for the blows.

"Okay, okay, you've made your point!" He cried in surrender. With a satisfied smirk, Emma drew back and allowed him to get to his feet.

"Jack, stop messing with your sister and go to sleep," their mother called from the kitchen. He noted to warm glow of the fire from the dining was fading as she started to put it out.

"Alright, to sleep you go," he told the little girl, scooping her small form in his arms, setting her off into giggles. He tossed her gently against the pillows – made from the very feathers that he had managed to scrap together in work - before drawing up the snug blankets over her legs. He planted a kiss on her forehead, then rose to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

"Tell me a story, Jack!"

"It's getting pretty late, y'know," he said, shrugging with false reluctance.

She pulled out the secret weapon: her large brown eyes, shining with eagerness, anxiety and joy at all the same time, the way only children's eyes could. "_Please_, Jack."

If his mother scolded him later, he'd just tell her she pulled 'the eyes' thing. It's not his fault that she did it, was it?

Besides, he'd been lucky the last six years, but that didn't mean that tonight wouldn't be the last night he could do this.

Kneeling next to her bed, his eyes sparkling, he began with a low voice, "Once, long ago, in some faraway place called Europe, there was a boy. He walked like a boy, and he talked like a boy, but in reality, he was really special."

"You see, he was the winter spirit. Every winter night, he would ride the wind, over rooftops and chimneys. He'd glide past the windows and with his ice hands, he'd draw beautiful pictures all over the glass panes. When kids wanted to play, he'd call snow to fall from the sky - even on the hottest days. His name … _Jack Frost_."

* * *

**District 8**

Most of the other girls in the orphanage had already gone to sleep, but Rapunzel was determined that she wouldn't until it was done. Punching the needle in the fabric a rhythmic fashion – in, out, in, out – she tried not to let the rolling of the melting wax worry her. Instead, she talked turned to her small green companion.

"Tomorrow's the day!" she told him animatedly as she made a quick knot with the thread, before shifting the cloth, folding it over, and plunging the needle in again. "Well, most of the girls are scared – what am I talking about, I'm scared! I mean, any of us could be the – well, _you know_ – but it's the only day that they let us go out, and the chances of me being picked is so _small_, so I'm actually totally okay with it!" She ended with a smile that was a little too wide.

The green chameleon just narrowed his green slits at her with knowing disbelief. After a brief staring contest, Rapunzel sighed in defeat as her shoulders drooped. The needle fell out of her hand, as she whispered him, "Sometimes I'm so afraid of that they would call my name that I end up chewing my hair. I know," – she caught him rolling eyes at her – "it's a bad habit, but I am trying to break from it. But I'm just so afraid. Just look at TV! All the ruffians. Thugs. Poison ivy. Quicksand!"

She shivered in horror, "One year even had cannibals – though they sort of made it illegal now – and snakes! _Snakes_! And large bugs! _Oooh_, and those kids with pointy teeth! How do they even get those teeth?" She was yanking on her hair so hard that it was a wonder that she hadn't ripped them off her scalp.

The green creature stared at her placidly for a moment, then rose on his hind legs. With his front legs, he made a small up-and-down, up-and-down motions that she immediately understood. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to convince herself, "I am calm, I am calm." Then she exhaled slowly.

Seeing that she was more relaxed, the green chameleon dropped back to all fours and scurried over to the edge of the table, waiting for her speak.

"I shouldn't get so worked up, should I?"

He answered with a firm shake of the head.

"There are lots of girls in the village, and my name's only been there five times. Well, okay, twelve times since they forced us to get tessarae for the orphanage – not that I minded awfully!" Rapunzel quickly defended herself. "And maybe, four more times when the quadruplets came in, but it doesn't matter. It's still not a lot compared to lots of others. Right?"

He gave several eager and repetitive nods, though more to keep her smiling than because he really believed it.

"Great! Then I've got nothing to worry about. They said that they'll be let us for stay for the celebration tomorrow after the reaping, so I can finally join in the danc– oh!" She gazed down at the crumpled heap she had released on the floor. "I meant to finish this before tomorrow. A new dress for dancing, y'know?"

He nodded firmly to show he understood, but he nodded to the clock, then raised a brow – or his reptilian equivalent – at her.

She got the message. "I'd guess better hurry then." Bending over the dress, she pulled the needle in and out, seam after seam, under the glow of the slowly dripping candle and under the watch of her faithful green friend.

* * *

**District 2**

Paranoia wasn't the most becoming trait of Peacekeepers. They called it _meticulousness_.

And so that's how he described himself when he tried to calculate the exact probability of him getting picked.

Glancing at the stat report he had cautiously stolen from his father's desk an hour ago, he started to do some math.

His name had only been entered exactly four times, since he'd never needed tessarae. Okay, hardly anyone in District 2 had ever took tessarae, since most people could live well without it. Those who did take it were just did so to increase their chances of getting picked. He knew his cousin Snotlout had thrown in his name 10 times with much anticipation, though to no avail.

Hiccup shuddered. Up to now, he didn't understand everyone else's enthusiasm about getting into the games. Were they _insane_?

Of course, this was District 2. Sure, masonry was supposed to be the main gig, but really? Everyone wanted to be a Peacekeeper. It paid well, gave every bloodthirsty District 2-er his fair share of violence plus the honour to serve the Capitol.

And of being a victor? That was the biggest thing that anyone in District 2 could get. His mum was a victor. And so was his dad, and that status still pretty much overrode his position as a mayor in the eyes of people.

They had expected that of him when he was born – the son of two victors, who could blame them? But when he grew to his nice, scrawny self, people eventually admitted that the genes were lost on him. His mother had died when he was but a babe - a train crash, he had been told - and he liked to think that was the reason that he sucked so badly at being who he was supposed to be.

But really, the odds were always stacked against him, as if the universe wanted him to be most miserable failure ever. _Please_, at ten, he couldn't pick up a Vektor CP1 handgun without staggering. He remembered his younger days in Career Training (It was technically illegal, anyway. Why did it even have an official name?), watching his dad gaze back at him in complete disappointment after a trainee two-years younger than him had him grounded in less two seconds.

He had pulled out of Career Training altogether around thirteen– instructor complained he had slowed down the class – and he had been dropped back into masonry, where he hadn't fared better, thanks his obvious lack of muscle. Eventually, he settled in handling and fixing the machines, which he was surprisingly good at.

It didn't stop him from trying over and over to be the Career that his dad wanted him to be; like (failed) attempts at body-building, self-learning how to handle weaponry (he shot himself in the foot twice – fortunately nothing permanent), and even getting into street fights on purpose (those ... _really_ didn't end well.) Still, it often ended with himself in a tangle, his peers mocking him, others sighing at him, and his father's disappointment.

Hiccup just stared at the millions of numbers before him. He glanced at the workings he scribbled on his notebook. He just needed to add the numbers of 12-year-olds joining the reaping this year and punch the data into the calculator, then he'd know for sure his chances of getting in.

The problem was he didn't know if he wanted to be _in or not_.

Sighing, Hiccup shut the book. Whether paranoia nagged him or not, there wasn't much point in this. He didn't have any control over the reaping process anyway.

Picking it the data book, he carefully made his way back to his father's study. Ensuring that no one was passing by, he retrieved the spare office key that he had hidden in a secret cabinet under a nearby window ledge. He had stolen it two weeks earlier - for purely academic purposes, he assured himself. Glancing around once more, he slid himself in, shutting the door quietly.

Hearing voices behind him, he thought that for a moment he had been caught in the act. However, it turned out that it was just holo-projector on father's table playing some news from the other districts. Once he found the right drawer, he slid the statistic report back in its old place. Involuntarily, he found himself watching the videos on the screen.

There were people on the streets, their fists raised as they charged forward, chanting something together. Opposing them were Peacekeepers, lined closely together, holding up their shields and trying to force the angry people back. When the people didn't budge, weapons appeared in the hands of Peacekeepers. Shots rang out in the air, and people were screaming and yelling, scrambling off in different directions. Some people stumbled to the ground and never got up again. Later on, more Peacekeepers entered the scene. More shots were fired, and the same thing happened over and over.

It wasn't the first time Hiccup had seen such clips during his escapades to his father's office, but he still cringed every time he did. He understood that rebellion brought violence, which why Peacekeepers had to contain them – literally, to keep peace. But when he watched it play out in real life, well, he couldn't barely keep the sickened feeling down his throat.

He heard a clinking sound from the door of the adjacent room, so he left the office hastily, locking the door before scampering off to his room.

Throwing himself on the covers, he eventually drifted off to sleep, dreaming of some place above the clouds.

* * *

**District 5**

Just this morning, there had been a riot.

Again.

It happened up in the northern sector. People were angry that they weren't getting the pay they had been promised, or something like that. With the coming winter, food and heat was getting scarce. Who could really blame them?

She suspected that it was started by old Macintosh, and maybe that egotistical son of his, though her parents 'kept mum' about that. Macintosh had been her dad's old pal after all.

Peacekeepers had been pouring in like floodwaters. It had been too difficult to sneak out to the woods tonight, so she decided to console herself by firing at the wooden target hanging on her bedroom wall. It was much too near, of course, and eventually three close-ranged shots at high-speed smashed it with a forceful _thwack!_

She stood absolutely still for a moment, listening. Catching the faint thuds of footsteps, she hurriedly stashed her bow and arrows all under her bed. Hopping into bed, she wrapped her wiry self under sheets, throwing her arms carelessly about, then started snoring in a suspiciously loud manner.

The door creaked open for a moment, and a thread of light appeared on the bedroom floor. Merida pricked her ears, trying to guess which parent it was. She decided to give a few more snores, just in case.

"See, Elinor? The lassie's all tuckered out, and – well, out."

She grinned. If it was just her 'ol'e da' ', it was pretty easier. She made a few more snores for his benefit.

"Don't be silly, Fergus. She didn't get to do hunting today - thank goodness she had the sense not too – but I doubt she'd exhausted herself over her history lessons, " she heard her mother's disbelieving voice echoing further down the hall.

Merida held her breath at that point. If her mother came into the room, she would, with her super-mum tracking abilities, see the splintered target board, find the bow, then sit her up to give her lecture about getting her priorities straight.

She'd been getting more these lectures ever since she'd hit sixteen. Her mother had been giving her lady lessons, emphasizing that soon she'd be old enough to join her father on his summons to the Capitol, and she'd have to know how walk, talk and act like on the Elites. 'Give our district a good name," her mother had told her over and over.

Maybe somewhere in her common sense she understood that, but _still_! What was with those impossibly high-heeled shoes that pinched her toes? And how was she supposed to breath in the ridiculously tight corset? And why have so many utensils on a table? Why not just eat everything with a knife? It's a lot more convenient.

Fortunately, her father won out in the end. "Well, just leave her be. She's got enough worries tomorrow."

When she heard her mother sigh, her anger cooled considerably, turning almost weary. "If she get's – well, you know – all those awful things that happen in the Arena – I…I don't think I could take it take it Fergus. "

"You know the odds, Elinor, there's no way she'd be picked with all those tessarae kids," her father comforted her. " And if she does? Why she's strong, just like her da'. More than that – she's wiley and quick, like you. She'd come out tops."

"But District 5 hadn't had a victor since _you_! And even then, look what the games did to you!"

Merida knew what her mother meant. When her father was in the games, he had to fight some weird muttation – a great terrible bear, he had told them. It had 'chomped his leg clean off', he had said before.

"Hush, 'linor," her dad said quickly. Even with only her back facing them, Merida could well imagine her dad holding her mum close, stroking her long brown hair gently. "It'll all turn out for the better. You'll see."

The stream of light vanished as the door shut behind her. After listening to her parents conversation, Merida fought a conflict of her own.

Ever since the riots had started in District 5, along her mother's talk of responsibility and leadership, she'd been giving a lot more thought about the Games. True, District 5 hadn't had a winner since her father, but she was going to change that. Because in dark times, people needed heroes, and maybe perhaps it's high time they got one.

She would bring the Capitol's favour back to District 5, just like her mother wanted, and quell the starvation that brought anger here, even if only a while. She had to admit, though, this was going to break her parents' hearts.

It was very simple. Merida wasn't going to get reaped.

She was going to volunteer.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, in my other fanfiction, I said that I wouldn't be writing anymore till November, but this idea kept bugging me throughout school, so I decided to 'let it go'. Yes, you are not amused. Okay. **

**I know there are a lot of Hunger Game/ Rise of The Brave Tangled (Frozen) Dragon arts and photos out there, but so far I haven't found a fanfiction that satisfied me. So…this was born. **

**As stated in the summary, I'll be bringing in some other Disney and Dreamwork film characters either as supporting case or just cameos. **

**For the storyline, it's set in the Hunger Games World, but there are going to be a lot of differences (e.g. Human Mutants – Elsa), and eventually it would get weirder. The story would also be a hybrid of The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, because I refuse to kill of all my favourite characters (note the word '****all****'. That should tell you something… )**

**However, I hope to keep the spirit of the Hunger Games, while keeping the characters, as well themselves. **

**The reaping would be happening in the next chapter, so stay tuned till Nov (because I should be focusing on school work…) **

**Please review! Ask Questions! Tell me what you'll think! Constructive Criticism appreciated too.**

***Edited for Grammar as of 14 April 2016. Would appreciate PMs if you spot further errors.**


	2. Chapter 1: Reaping Day

The Guardians Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 1: Reaping Day

* * *

**District 5**

Most of the Peacekeepers had cleared off by morning, or perhaps had relocated themselves to the town square where they could at least make themselves useful. Merida didn't care. She had used that to her advantage, having taken flight to the woods just before dawn.

Nobody worked on reaping day, so power plants and factories were all empty. That hadn't mattered much to Merida though. Instead, she had headed to the part of the fence where she found some tall trees. Climbing skillfully right to the top of one particular birch, she had used it to jump out and over the electrical fence that lined the District borders, over to the lush forest on the outside.

And there she was right now – sitting on the branch of a stately old oak that she guessed was at least a hundred years old. She leaned against its trunk, staring into space. Usually she'd be hunting – that's why she always brought her trusty bow and quiver along - but today she didn't feel like it. Instead, she spent the time taking in the beautiful world that surrounded her: watching squirrels that were scrambling up the branches, storing up for the winter, listening to the gushing of the river as it gurgled down the creek, admiring how the sun filtered through the red and gold leaves. If she wasn't careful, this would be the last time she would ever see this place.

No, she would be successful. She just had to tell herself that over and over.

Observing how that the sun had shifted further west, she reluctantly admitted it was time. Hopping down from the branches carefully, she made her way back to the where the electric fence was. Undoubtedly, her mother would be mad at her for being late, and also ruining the new green dress she had just bought. _"What would the people think with the Mayor's daughter running around like that?"_ she would exclaim in horror. But Merida had hardly given the lovely gown a thought when she tossed herself from branch to branch, splashing down onto the damp mud.

Later, she would let her mother fuss over her again, maybe even let cram her mane of curls into one of those silly bob buns that Capitol folk seemed to adore. She'd be squashed in another corset, of course, with some highly uncomfortable dress. And heels. But she would grit her teeth and bear it.

Consider it a sort of farewell gift.

* * *

**District 12**

"What do you think?"

Elsa scanned at herself in the mirror, and was absolutely speechless.

After her sister and herself had garbed themselves in their best clothes – an embroidered dark green dress for herself, and a light green one for Anna, her sister had asked if she could style her hair. Still fraught with guilt from last night, Elsa hadconsented.

Usually, she would have done hers in a coronet – a style she had learnt from their mother before her passing. It gave her a rigid, reserved appearance, but it was serviceable enough. What Anna did with her hair looked nothing like that. It was a simple French side-braid, really, plaited on the side of her head. But how Anna scooped back the locks of hair and twisted them into this, Elsa could never know.

She seemed bold, beautiful, _strong_.

Which was nothing like how she felt right then.

"Thank you, Anna. It is lovely," Elsa told her sister with complete sincerity. Cocking her head to a side, she noted the dual braids that Anna had done for her own brunette locks. It made her look younger, but it brought out the cheerfulness that she had always kept.

Elsa was sometimes envied how Anna had always stayed so optimistic and hopeful. Always finding something new and better to look forward to, or if not, find something old that they could enjoy right now. Their parents' deaths had broken their lives, their home, even their relationship. But never had anything shaken Anna's courage to keep living.

Anna was strong.

"It's almost ten o'clock. I guess we should go." When her sister had said that, Elsa noted for the briefest moment that fear flickered across in the blue eyes.

"Yes, we should," Elsa replied, unwillingly rising to her feet. She wasn't really looking forward to facing the cost of her tessarae, but then, who was? Before she left the dressing table, which really was just the dining table, she picked up the gloves and slid them over her hands.

Anna was already at the door, with her green coat over her shoulders. She held out Elsa's magenta one to her. "It's getting a little chilly."

Thanking her sister, she slipped the coat on, even though cold wind brought her more comfort than actual pain. Still, if District 12 was known for anything at all, it was their coal, and then their freezing winters.

As she shut the door behind them both, she could almost feel Anna's building dread as the girl watched their neighbours walking by, all headed to the same place. It was mandatory for all to attend the reaping, after all.

There was Greta and Kai, a middle-aged couple with no children of their own - fortunately for them. They were the kindliest of neighbours, having helped Anna and her during the first of their orphan years, even acquiring them a house of their own in the Seam. Elsa was eternally gratefully that both of them had avoided staying in one of those disreputable homes.

One of them was Kristoff, a boy in her own class. He was an eccentric lad, preferring to spend his time higher up in the mountains where snow fell thick. According to Anna, he had once announced to the whole school that he would be an ice-cutter when he grew up - just to get away from people. Everyone scoffed him, of course, since people in District 12 did little else other than coal mining.

For now, Kristoff appeared rather out of place without his pet reindeer accompanying him, but, of course, he knew better than to let the Peacekeepers know he had a pet reindeer at all.

Being herself, Anna gave a little enthusiastic wave and smile, though, Elsa noted, without her usual bubbly delight in it. Nonetheless, the blond boy blushed and tipped his hat towards them before quickly marching on. Anna hardly noticed his reaction, but Elsa did, and she was pretty sure she knew why. Anna was sometimes pretty oblivious to the obvious.

Drawing up to her sister's side, she asked, "Ready?"

Anna sighed. "As I'll ever be… which is never, by the way."

The rest of the journey up the hill to the town square was in stony silence. Elsa supposed to she could say something comforting, or maybe a joke if possible, or just blab about the cold, but words just stuck to her throat.

The giant Hall of Justice was coming into sight now, and Elsa could see Anna shaking more fervently now. Were she to ask, Anna would smile and blame it on the cold, but it would be a lie. If there was anything that could shake Anna, it was the reaping.

And there was nothing that Elsa could do to protect her from that.

* * *

**District 8**

"Rapunzel. Just Rapunzel."

The Capitol personnel obligingly filled her name in, while another took a blood sample from her. For a moment, she couldn't stop staring at the pad of ink that sat next to record books on the table. Ink was scarce in the orphanage, being a rather expensive import. She had tried to make do with assorted cloth-dyes as writing material, but she eventually quit when her fingers got stained more than the pages.

She noted that people were starting to give her weird looks, so she scampered off. She joined the other sixteen-year-olds, standing in line with them. The other girls stared at her, which gave her a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. Was it because of the new dress she was wearing? Or was it because she wasn't wearing any shoes?

Oh, of course. The _hair_. She subconsciously gave her braid a little tug. The quadruplets had helped with it this morning, so it was shortened just enough for her to walk freely. Still, her hair was still really long, and she didn't get to go out often (or really she didn't go _at all_, save reaping day – orphanage regulations), so she supposed these girls weren't as used to seeing it as the other orphans.

Eventually, their interest in her waned, and they returned to whatever they were doing before. Heaving a sigh of relief, Rapunzel whispered, "You can come out now."

The green chameleon slid out of her pocket, climbing up her arm before resting himself on her shoulder, where he immediately changed his skin colour to blend into the pink and purple stripes on her sleeve.

She murmured at him again, "Thanks for being here, Pascal."

The little reptile made an assuring noise to inform her that there wasn't any place he'd rather be.

The clock struck eleven, and finally the mayor, a tall military-looking man, ascended the podium to address the crowd.

He told them the same old story that was told every year. After a terrifying event nearly destroyed the world, the country that was once called America crumbled. It was time great turmoil as survivors struggled to adapt to the new world, and this led to the birth of Panem. The establishment of the Districts and the Capitol came next, so that all would contribute in part to survival of the nation. But there was a great war, and rebellion broke out against the Capitol. When the Capitol won, they created the Treaty of Treason, which led to the Hunger Games. Rapunzel had heard this many times by now, even before she was old enough to get her name in the reaping bowl.

Every district was to contribute a male and female tribute of twelve to eighteen years of age to the Games. The tributes would fight to the death, and the sole survivor was crowned victor. It happened ever year.

The mayor then listed their victors; which weren't few, but they were, Rapunzel had to admit, rather old by now. A few victors that still lived were sitting on the stage and were admittedly a scary-looking lot, with big bulging muscles and strange attire. There was a newer one, she had recalled, but he didn't seem to be present.

Finally, the mayor introduced the strange capitol lady, whom Rapunzel decides was the oddest person she had ever laid eyes on. Certainly, District 8 was all about textiles and sewing, but such a dress as the one the lady wore could never be made here. How did all those feathers stand upright? And who ever put orange, blue _and_ purple together on the same dress?

The lady – at least Rapunzel assumed it wasn't some alien from space - started chattering off some silly quotes. Rapunzel saw Pascal rolling his eyes, and she smiled despite herself.

"Ladies' First!" The strange capitol lady made a rather creepy-looking smile, showing off her pearly white teeth. She headed over to the reaping bowl, fingered through the slips, before drawing one out.

Rapunzel felt her muscles tense up, so she forced herself to inhale and exhale deeply, just as Pascal had often advised her. She shut her eyes just as the strange lady slid her hand into the glass bowl. She tried thinking about the celebration to come. There was always a celebration after reapings, except for the families which had lost their children to the games.

Shutting her eyes, she imagined the delicious food that would be passed around; the soaring music sung by fiddles and pipes; the dancing that would come in the end…

It would be over soon. It would all be over.

"Ra-pun-zel!"

It was over.

* * *

**District 10**

"Toothiana Punjam!"

Jack's head jerked up. The name sounded vaguely familiar. He tried to remember when he last heard it – was it fourth grade? Or was it fifth grade? But one thing for sure, he definitely remembered the petite girl who stepped onto the stage that moment, trembling only slightly as she took her place beside the presenter. She tended to be rather lively and excited about all kinds of things - especially teeth. She wanted to be the town dentist, apparently, and he remembered how she would ask him to floss his teeth every time he grinned at her. Not exactly the best way to get a date.

He grimaced. Still, she was a sweet girl. She didn't deserve this.

In a matter of fact, none of them deserved this.

The announcement of the male tribute would be soon, but Jack instead took the moment to let his eyes stray to the perimeter. Above the millions of heads, he finally found his mother, and his eyes met hers. He gave her a small, warm smile, and she bravely returned it, though he could tell by she was worried.

Her face disappeared briefly as she bent over to get something. When she was back up, he noticed Emma was in her arms. The girl gave him a small wave, which made his smile even wider.

Emma was eight now. Four years from now, her name would go into the reaping bowl for seven antagonizing years. He survived for five, with only two more himself, but could he live through the fear that her name be called during those years to come? He'd rather doubt it.

The Capitol escort had said something that caused the cheerful expressions on his mother and sister's faces to be transformed to look of pure horror. Bewildered, he raised at brow at them, but all he got in return was shaking heads.

"Jack!" Someone by his side was hissing at him. He glanced around him. All the other seventeen year-olds were staring at him. At the far corner, he noted that some Peacekeepers were marching over.

Then it dawned on him.

He had been reaped.

* * *

**District 5**

Finally, her father's history speech was over.

She knew he hated reading that thing. _"Never seen anything so miserable in his life,"_ he had often complained to them. She couldn't agree more.

As her father slumped himself back onto his chair, the Capitol escort finally got off his bum and started talking. Her father scanned the crowd until he found her. He brought his hand briefly his forehead, then made a overtly dramatically sigh. Merida shot back a grin at him, chortling silently.

The Capitol escort was now making his way to the bowl where the boys' names were. The world seemed to still briefly as he drew up the slip. When he said the name into the microphone, the crowd stirred. For a moment, the Peacekeepers around them tensed up, some tentatively raising their firearms. The white coats still remembered the events yesterday, even if many of the District didn't. Fortunately, the noise dropped quickly enough.

It was Wee Dingwall. Yes, even Merida felt that Dingwall Jr. would have been a better name. His da' was a stubborn man of tradition, even dumb ones. Of course, the only thing wrong with his name now was that it got drawn.

As Wee Dingwall made his way up the steps of the stage, his eyes blank and unperturbed. Merida felt the doubts creeping on her again. Dingwall the Elder was another one of her father's friends. If she were to do as she had planned, she might end up having to - well, end his son.

She scrunched up her face. Well, she'd be - that _did_ sound morbid. Not that there could be anything un-morbid while being related to the Games.

The Capitol escort now headed over to the other bowl, drawing up the name. He returned to the microphone and spoke the name. Part of her was glad it wasn't hers, but her little joy wasn't shared by the chosen girl – Maudie, if she remembered right – who was already bawling her head off. Merida winced. Wailing in front of the entire Capitol was not considered good form, and most sponsors would avoid crybabies in the end. Merida searched herself just one last time. Her brother's mischievous grins; her father's hearty laughs; her mother's reluctant smiles. She would - _could_ lose it all.

But then, for the District, for her people...

She wondered what her mother would think of this - foolish, ill-conceived, stupid. Why was being heroic so difficult?

The Peacekeepers were forcefully dragging Maudie out and down the aisle. It was now or never.

The redhead shot her hand straight up, her face hard with determination.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

* * *

**District 2**

"Volunteers? Hahaha!"

Hiccup wished that the oddly dressed Capitol escort wasn't standing so near the mike when he said that. Now the whole District – no – the whole _Panem_ knew of what he had asked.

In a low tone, he answered, "Yeah, volunteers. Could you like, um, ask if anyone wants to, like, um, volunteer? 'Cause,-" he scratched his head awkwardly,"-it's kinda one of the rules. Just in case, y 'know. "

"Alright then," the Capitol escort said in an amused tone, the way an adult would speak to a naïve yet troublesome child.

Hiccup winced. His father was sitting seven feet away and must have heard the entire exchange. If he could - which Hiccup supposed he actually could - he would object to Hiccup's request, and the boy would find himself dragged to the train, in chains if necessary.

"Just in case, folks," the Capitol man's cheery voice echoed throughout the hall. "Would anyone like to volunteer?"

Almost every hand in the male section was raised. _Enthusiastically_.

Resigned, Hiccup muttered, "I suppose that does pose a problem…"

"I'm glad to see so many are in really in the spirit of the Games!" the oddly-dressed man exclaimed with pleasure. His accent was really getting on Hiccup's nerves. And that _voice_ – not that he was one to talk.

"However, with some many of you, how could we possibly choose?" the Capitol escort continued. Some in the crowd were actually _cheering_. Hiccup's jaw slackened in disbelief. What was it with these people?

"So I'm afraid you guys are just going to have to wait till next year, but for now, the honour of the male tribute of District 2 goes to Hiccup Haddock!"

The Gods, if there were any, hated him.

The Capitol escort eventually moved on to the reaping of the female tribute, which gave Hiccup a little time to glance behind him. In the three other chairs that sat behind him, one was occupied by Gobber, his father's friend and fellow victor. He just raised an eyebrow at him. On Gobber's left, his father looked just – stoic.

Hiccup turned back to the crowd, and dejectedly started to reflect on his life. He was the smallest kid who had ever lived in District 2. He was going to the Games as a tribute, where everyone will expect him to be a career. His image had been ruined by the whole scene earlier, so no one would even think of sponsoring him. oh, and he was going die at the ripe old age of _fifteen_.

Things couldn't possibly get worse.

"Astrid Hofferson!"

… Okay, apparently they could.

* * *

**District 12**

When she first heard the name, she couldn't breathe.

And when she finally could, she couldn't stop gasping.

The last time she had felt this was when she had watched their beautiful house burst in flame, eating up both stone and wood. As her sister had clung to her, screaming into the night, she had only been able to only register horror clogging up her throat, choking her. As she had stared hopelessly at her hands, only one thought had rung in her mind.

This couldn't be happening.

Several rows in front of her, Anna's head briefly turned to face her own, before turning back to the Peacekeepers that were marching towards her. The girls around her stepped away from her, giving her space, and also showing the white coats exactly who they were looking for.

Anna was all white and her lip was quivering, but if she wanted to cry, she didn't. Crying didn't earn pity in the Games - only disgust. Anna was smart. Anna was strong.

Anna wasn't coming back.

"Anna!"

Elsa didn't know when she begun moving, but move she did. She had already pushed past all the other eighteen-year-olds, and she was making her way to the aisle.

"Anna!"

Some peacekeepers were already coming her way, barring her from going further. She drew back slightly when she came in contact with them. Though there was her fabric and their armor, she didn't want to risk forming any frost on them. Lord knows how much she wanted to now.

However, the Peacekeepers in front were still drawing her sister away, up to the stage. They were going to take Anna away forever.

That night of the fire, she had been frozen to the ground, just watching her life crumble with the flames. She still blamed herself for that, though for reasons Anna didn't, nor could possibly, understand.

That wasn't going to happen again.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The Peacekeepers halted their march. A hush went around the gravity of the declaration sunk in. In District 12, those weren't words you heard everyday.

Slowly, the Peacekeepers standing before Elsa moved off. Silence filled the square as she wove her way through the guards, to where her sister gawked at her with large eyes.

"Elsa?" It seemed more like a plea than question.

Elsa drew herself up tall, blinking back any tears. Too many cameras about. "You'll be fine, Anna." Seeing the girl was unconvinced, she added, "Hans will look after you."

He wouldn't be the first person that Elsa would have chosen to bring up. She didn't like him much – correction – she didn't like him; sure he was nice, caring, and handsome, but she somehow didn't trust him. Maybe because Anna had started dating him without asking for her permission. Maybe because she resented the fact that he lived in the merchant section of the District. Maybe it was because she knew that he filled the gap in Anna's life, the way she as the elder sister was supposed to, but didn't anymore.

But if he was all her sister was going to have now, he would have to be enough.

"See you later, Anna." She was referring to short period of time before the train ride that families were given to say their farewells to tributes. The last time that they would ever see each other again, no doubt.

She turned away from Anna, ignoring her cries. Biting her tongue, Elsa willed herself to not look back lest she run away. Every other child of District 12 had their eyes glued to her as she stepped down the dirt path. Averting her own eyes from them, she began chanting silently to herself, _"Don't them in, Don't let them see. Be the good girl, you've always had to be. _"

Elsa tried to keep calm as the Peacekeepers marched forward to flank her, leading her to the steps of the stage As she ascended them, her arms were shaking and she could feel the frost building in the gloves. Not good.

_"Conceal, don't feel."_

The whole Panem was watching through the millions of cameras that surrounded the stage_. _She raised her head, glaring through her tears, defiant and proud.

_"Put on a show."_

The Capitol Escort then asked for her name, which she gave unwillingly. The escort then said something that was meant to be funny, but apparently no one found it so.

She wasn't sure who started it, but then somehow people in the square started raising the three middle fingers of their left hands to their lips, then it holding out to her. It was an old salute of respect.

She knew that, because she had seen people do that at her parents' funeral.

The capitol escort seemed note the tension and scurried off to deal with the reaping bowl for boys. Elsa was relieved. She needed to some time to collect herself. Gloves or not, she was certain she could freeze the whole square then and there.

When the name of the male tribute was read out, for the second time of the day, Elsa felt that strange breathlessness.

Oh, Anna…

It was Hans.

* * *

**Story Notes (S/N):**

**Just refreshers in case you guys don't remember:**

**District 2 – Masonry, Peacekeepers**

**District 5 – Power, Electricity**

**District 8 – Textiles, Fabrics**

**District 10 – Livestock**

**District 12 – Coal (If you don't know this… you've probably never read THG)**

**More refreshers, ages:**

**Elsa – 18 (So Anna's abt 2-3 years younger)**

**Jack – 17**

**Rapunzel – 16**

**Merida – 16**

**Hiccup –15**

**When more characters come in, more ages would be updated.**

**In case you don't know, Kai and Greta are servants in the palace in Frozen. Wiki them! **

**The Capitol escorts aren't anyone special, so don't kill yourself guessing who they are.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Wow! 5 reviews! Awesome! I'm so continuing this (besides the fact that it's lots of fun) **

**Mailbox:****Meganqueen1: I suppose this chapter answered that question. Am I so predictable?****  
****To be fair, I made obvious that Anna wasn't going to be in the Games, and if no Anna, means no Kristoff, so... Fine, I'm predictable.**

**Guest: Romance? Oh yes! Lots of it. Maybe not fluffy sort, or the hardcore heartache, but it's definitely there. Most ships will canon to their respective movies, except for one particular 'crack ship' (don't worry. If you are browsing through this sub-category, chances are you love this ship already.)****  
****Eugene won't be making an appearance until much later. Flynn, on the other hand…**

**Luvy Duvy: Yes! Glad you like the concept as much as I do! Hope this update didn't keep you waiting! The next one will have to be really be Nov though. (must be disciplined! Must be disciplined! …but I've started writing it anyways…). ****Thanks for the title ideas! (though I didn't use them, but they helped)**

**Elsa Arendelle: Thanks for the title ideas! I'm glad you enjoyed reading the first chapter. Hope you liked this too.**

**Guest: I'm glad that I'm not doing to shabbily compared the other THG AU. I'm really hoping maintain this level (or get better!)**

**Okay! That's all till Nov! I hope you guys enjoyed this early update (because I should really go and do schoolwork now). **

**Questions! Critques! Comment! Go ahead!**

***Edited for Grammar as of 14 April 2016. Would appreciate PMs if you spot further errors.**


	3. Chapter 2: Saying Goodbye, Or Not

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 2: Saying Goodbye, Or Not

* * *

**District 12 **

The minute the Peacekeepers dismissed them, she wormed her way through the crowds of relieved children, headed to where the boys were. Her eyes darted about, anxiously seeking out a certain stocky blonde-haired gentlemen.

Finally, she caught sight of him drifting from the crowd, on the path back to their village.

"Christopher!" she called, freeing herself from the other children as she made a mad dash towards him.

"It's Kristoff," he corrected, annoyed, but his attitude mellowed when he recognised the caller. "Anna? Hang a sec, isn't your - shouldn't you be -"

"I know, I know," she interrupted, "That's why I need _it_ right now." Seeing the blank expression on his face, she elaborated, "Y'know, that thing I asked for last week." She made a gesture with her hands.

Finally catching on, he led her from the path, towards the Hob instead. It was pretty far from the town square, but with them dashing all the way there, it hardly felt like a minute before they were skidding to a stop at the front gate. Not even wasting a moment to shake off the snow on their coats, they hurried into the dark, dank zinc house.

Most work places closed on reaping day, but the Hob never did. It wasn't that the Hob people were especially desperate compared to their neighbours, but the black market was a place that the backstreet folk could be themselves, not under the cautious scrutiny of Peacekeepers. A hangout joint for the little people, if you will.

The blonde boy zipped his way to the little stall that his mother ran, with the strawberry-blonde close at his heels.

"Ma!" He greeted the plum woman briefly, before leaping over the stall table, then diving under it, searching for something.

"About time you've got back," his mother chided, but Anna noted she was in really good-spirits. "That reindeer of yours needs feeding." She supposed that it was relief. Relief that her boy missed the bullet for another year.

Another year - that's all it would have taken for Elsa to be leave the reaping. Anna bit her lip in bitterness.

Bulda - that's Kristoff's mother - then finally noticed her, and remarked with a cheeky grin, "Well, well, if you aren't that girl Kristoff's always mooning about."

Anna could only blink at that.

"Mum, now's a _really_ bad time to bring that up," she heard Kristoff hiss from below the table.

Bulda burst into a fit of giggles when she took a closer look at Anna, only to stop suddenly. "Oh my," she gasped, as realization struck her. Peering carefully at Anna's face, her voice turned from one of teasing to sympathy, "I'm so terribly sorry, dear."

"It's alright," Anna quickly said. She hoped the lady missed the catch in her throat. As far as she knew, Elsa never cried, so she wouldn't either, even if her world had been torn to shreds just five minutes ago.

"You poor darling!" Bulda exclaimed, just as Anna found herself buried in the arms of the stocky woman. Sure, the lady had a tight grip, but Anna didn't find the embrace especially horrible. The lady smelled of damp grassy mosses, which was an oddly pleasant fragrance. Besides, it had been ages since Anna had a proper hug.

"Your sister's a brave soul," Bulda had carried on speaking, drawing back to hold Anna by the shoulders. "Just like your parents. Your father was the best mayor this city ever had. No one stood up for the common folk like he did."

Anna nodded. Bulda, like many people of the District, were always in praise of her parents. Sometimes she wondered whether her parents really did half the things folks said they did.

"Got it!" was Kristoff's triumphant shout. When he scrambled out, Anna saw a small paper packet in his hand. To her, he said, "Let's go."

Waving farewell to Bulda, Anna followed Kristoff once again as both of them headed back to the road. Anna wasn't particularly athletic, but she kept up well enough with Kristoff. In no time, both of them stumbled in front of the Justice Building. Clambering up the steps, Anna hoped with all her might that they weren't too late. She had heard that Peacekeepers refused visitors when they were late.

Glancing at the guard's firearms warily, she gulped. With as much confidence as she could, as she declared, "I'm here to see my sister."

It was stony silence as the masked guards stared down at them. Just when Anna was sure they would turn them away, one guard stepped aside and opened the door.

Anna gratefully slipped into the hall, but Kristoff was stopped by a thick, armour-plated hand. Hastily, Anna threw in, "He's a family friend!"

It wasn't completely an untruth. Kristoff sometimes stop by their house for a variety of reasons - mostly, like sweeping off leaves off their porch during autumn, or shoveling snow in winter. At times, he would bring his reindeer, Sven, and let Anna pet him and play with him. Elsa got on especially well with the blonde boy, since both of them shared an interest in ice-craft. True, Elsa refused to pick up either hammer or chisel, claiming no to not want to spoil her hands - whatever that meant - but she liked to stand and watch as Kristoff attempted to 'unveil the face beneath the ice', only to fail miserably.

During their parents' death anniversary, he would turn up at the memorial whenever they did to deliver his own bundle of flowers. He claimed his mother prepared them, but Anna once caught him debating with Sven whether to gather daffodils or lilies.

He wasn't just a friend. He was a good friend.

A moment of contemplation later, the guard lowered his hand and Kristoff slunk in, casting a derisive glance at them, before mouthing at Anna, _"Jerks."_ For the first time since the reaping, Anna smiled.

Two other Peacekeepers marched them down the corridor, until they finally reached the two doors at the end of the corner. A small waiting area was set up in there, where she was pleasantly surprised to find Kai and Greta, the genial couple, standing. Though silent, Kai gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, while Greta took one of her hands and warmed it with her own.

"She's waiting for you." The elder lady nodded at the brown door on the right, where a Peacekeeper stood. On the left was another door, where another Peacekeeper guarded. Anna knew who sat behind it, and her shoulders slumped.

Kristoff thrust a paper packet - _the_ paper packet - towards her. "Here."

Unwrapping it, Anna was delighted to see the black little token was even more beautiful than she had imagined.

"It's brilliant!" she exclaimed, causing the boy to turn red.

Spinning away, he replied as humbly as he often did, "Well, coal-craft's easier than ice. I still think your sister would have liked an ice token better."

"Well, it wouldn't last," she told him, still gleefully admiring the little masterpiece. Then smile fell away as she turned to him, anxious. "You know I can't pay you till spring."

"Don't worry about it. It's on the house," he answered, still not looking her in the eye. Anna just beamed at him, both thankful and relieved. She had doubt that she could pay even by spring.

One of the Peacekeepers cleared his throat. Anna shot up straight in attention. The trains would be coming for them soon.

_Them... _the two most important people in her entire life. And the Capitol would take them both at once.

Drawing a deep breath, she beckoned Kristoff. "C'mon."

Kristoff raised a brow, pointing out, "Isn't it always family members first? I don't want to intrude in any 'girl-talk'."

"Well, if you go in alone later, there'd probably just be awkward silence," Anna retorted, maybe a bit more sharply than she should have. After all, he had just given her the token for free. Staring at the two opposing doors strung her up rather tightly.

Joining Anna in front of the right door, the Peacekeeper let them in, muttering something about time.

Elsa was seated on the armchair in the centre of the richly decorated room. Her back was straight up, with her two gloved hands folded over her lap. Her calm dignity held an air of regality, reminding Anna of the kings and queens of old.

"Hey," Anna greeted as cheerfully as she could muster. She heard the door shut behind her. She supposed the Peacekeepers were counting down now.

"Hello, Anna."

The awkwardness – Anna'd rather think of it as awkwardness than tension - was so thick that you could slice it, dice it and serve it on a platter. Kristoff, who was probably regretting coming in after all, moved to a far corner to give them space. As if there wasn't already too much.

Suddenly, Anna wondered if Elsa was mad. After all, she did make quite spectacle during the Reaping, with all the crying and clinging. It couldn't look very good on Elsa's image.

So she blurted out, "I'm sorry for the whole thingy just now, - you know, the weepin' and wailin' stuff. Not that I'm sorry about crying-" wringing her arms together "-because I would do it again. Well, not on purpose,-" she sniffed involuntarily "-because it supposed to be emotionally-charged or something, but I wouldn't just start crying and stuff to ruin your stuff on TV – Wait, what?"

"Anna," Elsa's voice was kind. It was only then Anna noticed the tears trickling down her own cheeks.

"Oh, whoops." Anna laughed shakily, wiping them off with her arm-sleeves. When she turned back to Elsa, her sister suddenly gave a small giggle.

Taken aback but smiling too, Anna asked, "What? Is there something on my face?"

She turned to a nearby mirror to check her appearance. Her guess was apparently accurate, since now she had nice black stripes on both cheeks. She supposed the soot in the Hob got to her sleeves somehow, because now it was on her face.

"Oh, look, I'm a tiger," she told the blonde girl whimsically, though she couldn't clear the lump at the back of her throat. Elsa let out into a small giggle – a rare sound to behold - and Anna gladly joined in, though she couldn't stop the new tears from tumbling down her face. She tried to wipe them with her sleeves again, only to make the soot marks more apparent.

"Here, let me help," Elsa offered, rising from her seat. She removed a napkin from her pocket as she dab off both tears and soot from her sister's red face. Anna noted the patterns on the ends of napkins, as well as on the ends of Elsa's gloves. When they first moved to the Seam, Elsa was adamant they wouldn't work in the mines – they weren't physically cut-out for that kind of work. Instead, she started experimenting with the old woodwork art that their father had taught them before – _rosemaling - _ and began decorating anything from clothes to porcelain with these designs. It didn't get much of a market in the Seam itself, but there was a substantial demand from the merchant district. It was that income that kept them fed.

Elsa shouldn't be the one going. People loved her patterns at least. Anna could only copy them. She was no was Elsa, after all. The perfect, polished, poised Elsa, who was heading off the world of rough-thug and uglies. Anna's cheer dissipated at the thought.

Elsa's expression turned from one of cheerfulness to concern. "Anna, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine." Yes, of course_, _she was lying, but what else could she say? That she was about to lose the last of her family? That her first ever boyfriend was leaving at the same time? That she'd probably to watch them tear out each other's throats for the sick entertainment of wackos in feathers?

She tried to turn the question around. "What about you? You okay?"

Admittedly, maybe saying the other three statements would have been less stupid.

Elsa sighed deeply, before she replied in quiet voice, " I…I have come to accept what's going to happen. My question is, have you, really?"

The probe caught Anna by surprise. "I…I…" She decided to speak her mind. Crossly, she told the blonde, "You shouldn't have volunteered."

"Anna-"

"I know I'm no big-shot, but hey, at least I've fought some boys in elementary school-"

"Anna-"

"And you don't like hitting people. You'd go into the frosty 'ice-glare' mode. But in _there_, they're not go'nna wait for you to turn on your 'superpowers'-"

"Anna!"

A sudden iciness rippled through the room, sending Anna a chill down her spine. She wondered if she had imagined it, but Kristoff seemed to be shivering too. From the corner of her eye, she could see the boy was pressing himself against the wall, like he was trying to sink into the wallpaper. He was clearly uncomfortable, and for the first time, she was sorry for him. He didn't need to watch this.

Gazing out of the window, Elsa said, "After our parents passed, I promised myself I'd care for you. _This_," – she made a vague gesture around them -"is the least I could do, considering that…" she trailed off, still not meeting Anna's eyes, clenching her fists.

The brunette couldn't hide the acrimony in her tone. "Well, maybe instead of caring _for_ me, didn't you ever think of – _I don't know_ – caring about what _I_ thought? Not that you've done that before." She added the slighting tone before she could stop herself.

Elsa now glanced up sharply at Anna, raising her brow. "If this is about Hans, it's ridiculous to be dating and 'in love' when you barely know him."

Anna couldn't ignore the sneering tone. "Well, maybe you think that because _you_ don't know him. Had it ever occurred you to try? For my sake?"

"_That_ would make the present situation _so much_ better."

Anna felt like she had been slapped by a sudden gust of cold wind, and see drew back like she had. Elsa's mouth dropped open, and for a moment she seemed like she was going to apologise. Instead, tugging on her gloves, her sister said placidly, "You should go see him. The trains would be leaving soon."

"Right," Anna replied softly, pulling on one of her braids. She was about to turn away when she remembered. "Oh," - removing the black token from waist pocket –"here."

Elsa made a curious expression, before taking it into her hands. Her fingers ran over the embossed design on its octagonal surface.

"A crocus," she smiled slightly in recognition. It was their mother's favourite flower – a symbol of rebirth and spring, she had said.

"Christopher made it," Anna told her. "Coal-craft stuff."

"Kristoff," a voice interjected dispassionately.

"It's lovely." Elsa nodded gratefully at him. He blushed again. Anna had to admit he was rather cute when he did that.

Then, the door burst open. "Time's up."

Anna didn't resist when they dragged her out. Kristoff's took a bit longer though, since Elsa pulled him up at last moment to tell him something. When he joined her outside the room, he shot the Peacekeepers a dirty look, then turned to her.

"You know, you didn't exactly say goodbye," he pointed out.

The tension from the situation hasn't yet to be eased, so she snapped at him. "Oh, so you were eavesdropping?"

"Hello? You asked me to come in with you, and you didn't specify 'cover ears', or what-not."

"Oh, right," she mumbled, embarrassed, scooping a brown lock behind her ear. Kai and Greta were now shown into Elsa's room, while Anna stood staring at the door on the opposite side.

He was getting impatient. "You going in?"

"Do you have a knife?"

He removed one from an inside pocket and handed it to her. She then undid one of her braids, grabbing a lock, then hacking it off with the blade. With that done, she returned it to him.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"I read that girls gave a lock of hair as memory gifts in the past to their sweethearts, " she explained, straightening the lock in her hand. She had been careful to cut one with some white hair in it. It was her trademark after all.

The blonde boy just stared at her as if she had claimed to that snowmen could sing and dance.

She rolled her eyes at him. "C'mon." She beckoned him to this door instead.

Kristoff thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, I'll pass on this one. He's your 'sweetheart', after all." She noted he said that rather sourly.

Anna was going to explain that she needed some moral support, but she supposed that he'd 'suffered' enough. So she nodded. "Thanks for being here, anyway."

"No prob," he answered – probably being polite, Anna assumed. He tipped his hat, then headed down the corridor.

Tightening her fist around the lock in her hand, Anna nodded at the Peacekeeper. "I'd like to go in please."

He muttered something about time before he let her in. As she did, she felt a building dread in her heart. Finally, she confessed to herself what she didn't want to confess.

Even if she were that lucky, only one of them would have a chance of coming home.

* * *

**District 10 **

She wasn't old enough to be reaped, but she was old enough to understand the implications of it. The capitol made sure that education systems, even though in the 'poorer' districts, were capable of that.

"Hey, kid."

Her response was to sprint up him, swing her arms over his shoulders and bury her face in his neck.

"Hey, hey! What's wrong?"

She understood that the Capitol was scary, so when they asked for something, the Districts did it for them. She also understood that the Capitol wanted revenge. What she didn't understand was why the Capitol had to _have_ that revenge. She had learnt from her Pa, then her Ma, that when people did you wrong, you had to forgive them. It would be painful, and you'd hate to do it, but if you didn't, you couldn't move on with your life.

Apparently the Capitol wasn't very good at forgiving.

Gently, he detached her arms from himself, settling her down on his lap. Wringing her hands together, she told him, "I'm scared, Jack."

"Still?" He raised a brow. "C'mon, I'm even not dead yet."

She stared up at him with unblinking eyes, trying to remember exactly how he looked like; his warm brown eyes, his chocolate-brown hair, the spray of freckles on his cheeks.

His laugh! She needed to remember his laugh.

"Jack," she asked him anxiously, "can you laugh?"

He raised a brow at her. "Laugh?"

She nodded her head eagerly. "Yes, now."

He shot her a quizzical expression, but he gave a little chortle.

Emma cringed. It was too dry. Too sad.

"That's not a real laugh," she scolded, hitting his stomach lightly.

"Well, _sorry_," he said with mock irritation. Then a wicked gleam lit up in his eyes. "Tell you what; I'll laugh if you laugh."

"What!" she ejaculated.

"Fair trade," he teased, ruffling her hair a bit. "C'mon, a little chuckle from _you_ gets a chuckle from _meeee_."

She only gave him a pout, then a frown.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself then."

She sighed in defeat. She supposed he wasn't going to give her a real laugh then.

She knew that the mean Peacekeepers outside were going to call them out soon, so she moved on to the next thing on her list. "Jack, can you tell me a story?"

Her elder brother raised his brow at her again in amusement, before glancing at their mother. Mrs Overland gave a small smile and nodded.

So Jack told her a story. It was about Jack Frost again, since he knew it was one of her favorites, and also because both himself and the mythical winter spirit shared the same name. However, this time he told a new story.

It was about a little girl, and how she was always sad, because she was lonely and didn't have anyone to play with. Jack Frost felt sorry for her. Sure he was ice-cold, but he had a warm heart, and he wanted to make the little girl happy. But he was a spirit, and she was a human - she couldn't see him, hear him or touch him. There was nothing he could do.

One winter's day, he saw her building a snowman all by herself. Then, an idea struck him. He sprayed some magic snow onto the snowman, and made him come to life! The little girl was delighted, of course. She and the snowman played for hours together; they had snowball fights, sledding and even ice-skating!

The snowman stayed as the girl's constant companion through the winter, but when the last ice thawed, it was soon time to go. You see, the snowman wasn't really alive – it was Jack Frost's magic that him going, and when the time for winter was over, Jack had to move too, and the snowman could only be where Jack Frost was.

The little girl was devastated, and it almost broke Jack's heart. Then he came up with another idea! Through the snowman, he promised the little girl that he (as the snowman, certainly) would return in the winter to play with her. All she needed to do at the end of autumn was to go to the frozen lake near her home, build the snowman again, then repeat his name three times and believe, with all her might. Then, and only then, he could come back to her.

The little girl then asked for his name. Jack Frost tried to tell her, but the snowman's lips was made of a stiff little twig, and it couldn't get all the words out. So all the girl could hear was '-Frost –Frost'.

"-And that's how Frosty the Snowman really came about," the brown-eyed boy finished. "It was all thanks to Jack Frost."

Emma just stared incredulously at him, then burst into a mocking chuckle. "That's the _silliest_ story I've ever heard," she cried, shaking her head at her brother.

"Aha! But I made you laugh!" The boy pointed out triumphantly, giving a whoop, then a full-blown chortle.

A genuine laugh; full of mischief and merriment. Emma kept absolutely still as she watched her brother throwing his head back, cackling in true gaiety. That was a sound she would keep at the back of her head, and forever in her heart.

"Y'know, the story's true," he held, though a twinkle in his eye betrayed him.

"Of course it is." Emma's eyes were dancing knowingly.

"Hey, it is. Serious," he insisted, though his sister continued sniggering doubtingly. Brushing back her bangs for her, he looked into her eyes, and asked, "Emma, do you believe in me?"

Emma's spirit was one full of fear and anxiety, which was hardly healthy for a child, and unfortunately common in the districts. But her spirit was also one of wonder, dreams and hope. Emma had unquestioning faith in her brother, as ridiculous as it sounded.

"I believe in you, Jack."

"So, as long as you believe in me, I will come back," he told her, without a trace of hesitation. "I promise."

He kissed her gently on the temple, then embraced her for the last time. Emma continued clinging to him tightly, refusing to budge even when the Peacekeepers came in and their mother had to pry her off from Jack's wiry form.

As her mother carried her away out of Justice Building, Emma just kept whispering, with desperate hope, "I believe. I believe."

* * *

**S/N:**

**Rosemaling – Norwegian decorative painting. Usually used in woodwork. Used generously in designing everything in Frozen, even Elsa's ice dress.**

**The Crocus is part of the Arendelle crest.**

**The Story of 'Frosty the Snowman' is original and specific to this story. (The real story is in the song. Y'know, the Christmas one.)**

**A/N:**

**I'm back! With project stuff over, I'm now aiming to update this once a week. But to make sure I update my other fic too, I'm forcing myself to alternate between the two.**

**Mailbox: **

**Elsa Arendelle: Thanks for your review! Originally, I wrote the visits from the POV of the Big Four (Five), but then your review inspired me to try changing POVs – which ended up with Anna's part alone taking up 2000+ words! In the future, I think I'll be experimenting with various POVs. **

**AmyMilo: A simple review is more than enough to make me feel that the story is appreciated, so thank you for reviewing all the same.**

**I realised the price of character development is lot and lots of words. And time. So either for a single event I'll cut down the no. of perspectives on it, or I'll keep the perspectives really short, if not I'm never finishing. When it's important enough though, I'll just let the words flow. Hope you guys don't hate reading long chapters much.**

**Next chapter would give more hints on who's going to into the games. And…I think it would inevitably feature more backstories of our beloved characters in this alternate universe. (hence what I said about character development). Any guess for who I'm bringing in? **

**Reviews are appreciated, questions are welcome and critiques are treasured.**

**See ya next week.**

***Edited for Grammar as of 14 April 2016. Would appreciate PMs if you spot further errors.**


	4. Chapter 3: How to Get Your Mentor's Help

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 3: How to Get Your Mentor's Help _OR_ How to Completely Ignore them

* * *

**District 8 Allocated Train Cabin**

He had managed to go somewhat _A.W.O.L._ during the Reaping, but he knew that not getting on the train would be as good as signing his own death warrant. So when the Peacekeepers had come to drag him to the station, he hadn't resisted.

The minute he had boarded though, he immediately had taken refuge in a remote lounge cabin. There, he had remembered was taking a nice little nap on a comfy purple sofa in the sitting room, listening to calming hum of Bach's lullaby.

But where he woke up to was definitely not that place.

It was dark, and a bit cold. He sighed. Did the Capitol ever bother fixing the heating in their trains?

He tried to move, but found himself quite unable to. He could twist his wrists slightly, move his neck and maybe wriggle his toes, but that was it. Every part of him was somehow stuck to this horribly uncomfortable chair.

"Strug-struggling is pointless."

His head shot up, spinning around but all he saw was black, black and black.

Out of nowhere, a flash of light appeared. He groaned as he shut his eyes instinctively. Daring a peek, he slowly opened them again, allowing his vision to be attacked by the million of black splotches that eventually turned to colour. Squinting, he vaguely made out that there was the lightbulb over him. Glancing around, he decided that he must be one of those empty storage cabins. Feeling the vibration underneath his feet, he heaved a sigh of relief. At least he was still on the train. Subconsciously, he tried to yank of his arms out of the - _hair_?

"Struggling is pointless."

He frowned, scanning around for the source of the voice. Only then did he noticed that not only was bound to the chair with golden hair, there was also a tiny green reptile sitting on his knee.

His jaw slackened. Was this tiny green creature the one talking to him? Was it the one who tied him up in hair? Had he been kidnapped by _aliens_?

"You're name is Finn Rider, correct?"

He squinted at the reptile - frog? He wasn't too familiar with the species. The green creature was wearing a rather unamused expression. If possible for its little face to bear such an expression.

"Well?" The frog didn't open its mouth at that time. But the way it narrowed its eyes at him seemed to indicate otherwise.

He had to going mad. _Frogs_ don't talk!

"Over here." Suddenly his neck swung in a new direction and found himself staring at a human face.

She had bright green eyes and stubby little nose. A deep red flush brought out the light freckles on her fair skin, and her pink lips were twisted in a definite frown. She was a blonde - not his favourite colour - and he noticed in one hand she was holding a long cord of hair in one hand.

"Wait, is all this,"- he scanned all the cords around him, then the blonde in front of him - "_hair_?"

Ignoring the question - "Finn Rider, yes?" she said it to him slowly, perhaps thinking that he was stupid. Maybe he was, considering it took him that long to realized that the frog -

Oh gosh, _where did the frog go_! His eyes darted around frantically as he searched for the strange animal, only halting in relief when they landed on the girl's shoulder. The reptile was sitting there, still bearing the emotionless expression. Undeniably, the girl was much easier to look at.

Meeting her scrutiny, Flynn begun crossly, "Alright, blondie-"

"Rapunzel," she interrupted shortly, folding her arms.

"_Gesundheit_," he retorted, "firstly, the name is _Flynn _Rider. Not _Finn_ \- I am _not_ a fish part. Secondly,-" he spluttered a bit, "-how can you know _not_ that?"

Her brow shot up. "Know what?"

"How can you make a mistake in my name? C'mon! I've gotta be, like, _the _most famous guy in - you really don't know who I am, do you?" he dejectedly asked the blank-faced girl.

She shrugged. "Television time in the orphanage was rather limited. But,-" she drew his chair up close, such that their faces were only inches apart - "this isn't about you, _Flynn_ Rider. Rather, this is about what _you_ are going to do for me."

His expression spelt out his disbelief. "What?"

"Hook Hand,-" the girl ignored his interjection and dropped the chair back, starting to circle around him instead, "-has been kind enough to inform me how treated your previous mentees, which by being completely useless and irresponsible." She threw up her hands in the air. "What kind of mentor switches off the television whenever his mentees are on, then switches it back when they're not?"

"Darlin', it's called _survival_," he murmured dryly, squinting at the bulb to avoid looking at the girl altogether. If he was right about who she was, he didn't want to get to know her at all, emphasis on 'at all'.

"And the advice you give? _'Don't die'_?" she went on, as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm sure your last three mentees appreciated it."

"Till you do it, don't judge," was his flippant reply, though anyone else watching would noted the pained look in his eyes.

"I refuse to have that," the blonde - Rapunzel, she had said, - declared defiantly. "_You_," she pointed at him dramatically, "are going to teach me everything I need to learn to win these games."

He just deadpanned at her.

Noting the lack of response, she drew herself up to full height, which wasn't very tall in his opinion, and repeated, "You are going to help me win these Games."

Boy, she was serious. Flynn couldn't help feeling sorry for her, considering he knew his answer. "_No can do_."

Her brows furrowed. "It wasn't an option."

He made a snort, rolling his eyes while he muttered, "Like _you_ can make me do anything!"

The girl seemed somewhat taken aback by his less-than-enthusiastic response, casting a questioning glance at the reptile on her shoulder. With one of its front paws balled into a fist - was that even possible? -, the reptile made a smashing gesture. With renewed resolve, the girl's green eyes suddenly hardened like agates. When she returned to gaze at him, Flynn, despite his bravado, instinctively flinched.

"Let me get this clear, _Mr. Rider_," she begun a slow, menacing approach towards him, "I don't know what made you my mentor. Fate, destiny,-"

"A bad lot," he interjected with annoyance. " I swear those thugs rig the dice. Three years in a row is too obvious..."

"Whatever," she waved it away dismissively, continuing on slowly. "I have made the decision to trust you-"

"-a horrible decision, really," he cut in impassively.

"But trust me," she made clear emphasis on the last two words, glaring icily at him, "when I say, I will do _whatever_ it takes to make you help me."

After some hasty mental calculations, he changed his methods. Meeting the hard green eyes, he answered, "Blondie, if you want my help, you've gotta prove you're worth my time."

As expected, the girl was thrown off again. "Prove?"

"Are you good at running, shooting maybe?" He gave some examples. "Got some secret talent in martial arts or swordsmanship?"

She thought for a moment, then her face brightened up. "I've my hair! And I can throw darts! Well, sort of," she added uncertainly.

His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah…that's definitely going to help. Look, Goldie," it was his turn to lean forward. "Show me something, _anything_, that going to keep the Careers from 1,2 and 4 from spilling your guts at Bloodbath. Oh, the hair has to go," - he nodded at the golden loops around his body, - "it's an athletic hindr- "

"NO!" Her cry was immediate and unquestioning. Her face turned a bright red with fury and fear.

He was taken aback, but slipped back into his nonchalant behavior in no time. Shrugging, he said, "Suit yourself."

Seeing her slumped shoulders, Flynn almost felt sorry for her – _almost -_ but he hardened his heart. He would not feel anything towards her, no compassion, no pity, not even distaste-

_Wait_, what was she doing?

Rapunzel had taken the moment to open up the side door of the cargo cabin, exposing them both to the beating wind outside. Though the train was travelling rapidly, it was still slow enough for him to catch a beautiful view of the gorge below the tracks.

Spinning towards him, she called above the wind determinedly, "You want me to show you what I've got? Well, I'll _show_ you! And I'll let you see, -" she grabbed his chair and started dragging him towards the door, "-why my hair is an advantage. Especially-" she smirked "-for you."

Okay, now he was scared. Flynn demanded, panicky, " What are you doing?"

Without another word, she looped her hair over the hook that was attached to the outer face of the cabin door. With that done, she gave the chair a hard shove, sending it plummeting down the gorge.

Listening to the screams for a few moments, she finally tightened her grip around her sliding hair, yanking the screams to unexpected _'oomphf!'_

"Should I pull him up now?" she inquired of the chameleon on her shoulder. The chameleon paused to contemplate this, then shook his head.

Rapunzel relaxed her grip, as the shrieks resounded in the gorge below.

* * *

**District 5 Allocated Train Cabin**

Merida wished that Mayors could double as mentors, then her father could be their mentor, instead of this crazy old hag –um– woman.

Yes, _their_ mentor. She had to share her mentor with Wee Dingwall, the half-Wit. (She refused to call him just 'Wee' - that would just be undignified).

And the old coot was nuts! She spent most of time half the time telling stories that were of no relevance whatsoever and the other half carving wooden bear sculptures. Merida wasn't surprised that District 5 hadn't had a victor for ages. After all, a good mentor could be the deciding factor your success in the Game; they settled sponsors, set up public image and so forth.

Wee Dingwall was already blanking out, and the crazy old hag was gabbing on to her pet crow now. Merida groaned and rolled her eyes. Sliding off her chair, she grabbed a plate of sugared buns and she headed to the television instead. All channels were playing the same thing; the recap of the reaping. Setting the mountain of buns on the coffee table, she made herself comfortable on the sofa and watched.

The reaping results were in order, so District 1 came first. She leaned forward keenly. During the last farewell, her father had warned her to be wary of the Career districts. '_Never_ form allies with them,' he had said, 'they'd turn on you the second you strike their ire. Better make it on your own." Merida heartily approved of this advice. She wasn't the team type, anyway.

The male tribute of District 1 was not very tall, but the way he carried himself you'd think he was. His hair was a dirty white color, with its ends dyed red. Merida cringed in disgust. Sure, District 1 was all about luxury goods, but highlighting the entire head white – urgh, the _maintenance_. He didn't look especially strong, but the way he preened with arrogance and pride somehow sent shivers down her spine. The female tribute on the other hand was just as confident and cocky, but somehow she lacked the 'scare factor' her counterpart had. As far as Merida could tell, she was just a ditz.

When District 2 came on, she was in for pleasant surprise. Both tributes were rather short and wiry, instead of the bulky, brawny archetype that the Peacekeeping district had a habit of producing. She cackled when they did a close-up on the boy. He was so small and gangly – like a talking fishbone! He was kind of cute though, in an awkward, dorky way. Merida sighed. He would die the minute the gong went.

The girl, on the other hand, was not only striking in appearance, she was tough. Sweeping back her stringy blonde bangs, Merida recognized the determined expression that hardened her facial features. She had seen it on her mother's face many times, and occasionally caught sight of it in a reflection of her own face. The redhead crunched thoughtfully on the sugar bun, shaking back her copper curls. She had better step lightly around that one.

District 3 tributes didn't look like much. The boy was rather young, with his jet-black hair sprayed like spikes around his head. The girl appeared much older, but her boniness and jumpy manner averaged out to 'harmless'.

District 4's girl came across as the shy, pretty bimbo with her black braid plait by her side. Her male counterpart, however, appeared not only fearsome, but undeniably insane as well. As he dashed up the steps, he was roaring to the crowds before him, giving a victorious hoot while they cheered. The dark bruised over one of his eyes only added to his deranged appearance. Merida shuddered. _Careers_.

Wee Dingwall and herself were next. Television didn't bring out the best of Wee Dingwall, but it did give several good shots of her volunteering and ascending the stage. The cameras, however, had also captured her parents' reaction. Both of them were seated just behind, as the mayor and his wife did every year. Her father was just gawking throughout the whole thing, while her mother's face was one of disbelief, then anger, then – _devastation_.

Merida couldn't help feeling guilty at that point. During the farewells, her mother had been rather stiff, as if she wasn't forcing herself not scold her daughter for once. Merida had tried to explain her point of view, that she wanted bring the Capitol's favor to their district - just not in the way her mother wanted. Her mother had seemed bursting to say something to her, but her last words were just, 'Remember to smile.'

It wasn't poor advice. Capitol folk loved cheerful tributes. It was just that she had hoped for, well, something else.

Brushing away her feelings, she listlessly watched as the television displayed the short goofs from District 6. The boy seemed to be giggling to himself - rather creepily, Merida felt - while the girl just started crying. Both didn't look older than fifteen.

District 7's lot as apparently a sibling, no, _twin_ team - some really bad luck, all right, but they didn't seem to mind much, and why should they? They were tall, muscular, and heavyweight - physical advantage screaming all around alright. She'd best avoid those two and hope they don't join the Careers. It was a twisted Hunger Games tradition that the children of the richer Districts - that is, of 1,2, 4 - form an alliance together, dubbed accurately as the 'Career Pack'. Of course, it was not unheard of for them to pick up some worthy ones to add to their numbers, like the fellows displayed here.

District 8's boy was the brute type, but didn't look too bright. The female tribute was sweet, fragile thing, but there was something hard about her - like a fire in her eyes. Was her golden hair really that long? Well, her disadvantage, if she keeps it.

District 9's were so unremarkable that Merida just glossed them over.

District 10 had a petite, yet feisty-looking girl, but the male counterpoint just overshadowed her completely. From all the 'Capitol education' she got from her mother, Merida knew that they adored the tall, skinny, baby-faced type. There would be girls and women fawning over this one the minute he hits the Capitol, and that meant lots of sponsors. Lucky dog. Still, he seemed too nice to be any real danger.

The next district once again provided an interesting contrast. The male tribute was definitely seventeen or eighteen, with broad shoulders and especially large-hands – he could probably smash rocks in his palms! The small girl that stood to him certain made a juxtaposition. She wore colourful hair-slides in her glossy black hair, while tucking her hands in her green hoodie pockets. If it wasn't for the place and time, she seemed like the type who would love some good mischief – quite like Merida's own brothers. The redhead sighed, wondering what the triplets were doing now. Were they wrecking up some factory again? Or stealing cakes from the bakery?

Or maybe they were anxiously watching the television, waiting for their fiery-haired sister to come home.

Pushing thoughts of home from her mind, she focused on District 12 instead. When the female tribute had been called out, a skinny little brunette girl was led down the aisle. But then, this was halted when a blonde girl from behind raised her arm up high, yelling the exact words that Merida had. The commentator went on to explain that it was actually that two were actually sisters, and the platinum blonde was the elder.

Merida couldn't ignore the self-reproach nagging her, so much that she switched off the television before the male tribute came on.

This girl had stepped up to volunteer; not because she was Career, not because she wanted to pursue 'her own destiny', but to save her sister. That was admirable. That was courageous. That was _heroic_.

And what had she, Merida DunBroch, just done?

The response of her family members during the farewell rushed into memory; her father's pride mixed with sorrow; her brother's downcast faces as she mussed their hairs; her mother's watery smile, only to turn into broken sobs outside the room.

Maybe for the first time since she conceived the idea, Merida felt remorse about her decision.

* * *

**District 12 Allocated Train Cabin **

"Sandwich?"

She glared at him icily.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the message. "It's tuna and mayonnaise. Or if you're not the mayo type, I've made a ham and cheese. And there's a peanut butter jelly one. One of the best in the world, if you ask me-"

"No." He seemed taken aback at her refusal. She had to admit it was rude, but she didn't need to be nice to this guy. In a matter of fact, she didn't want to even talk to him, if she could help it.

Though put off, he was not deterred. "Don't you like sandwiches?" He waved the plate in front of her face, as if trying to tempt her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, doing her best to convey her contempt in a single sentence. "They're edible, but hardly a favourite. "

It was mean, but she liked seeing his downcast expression. Crestfallen, he set the plate down and started cutting up the steak before him.

Still, she was too optimistic in thinking he would shut up. "I'm sorry for being so presuming, then," he said politely and cheerfully, which just annoyed her all over again. "It's just that Anna loved them, so I assumed-"

"Anna?" It maddened her that he brought up her sister, but the fact came to her as a surprise. "Sandwiches?"

Hans' eyebrows shot up. "Oh, didn't you know? She loves them. Especially partial to chocolate and peanut butter."

Elsa could only glare at him, then at the plate of sandwiches. Clenching her gloved hands under table, she muttered to herself, _"Don't feel. Don't feel."_

"Pardon me but I didn't catch that," the redheaded boy cut in, still as courteous as ever.

Her face twisted into a haughty sneer, remarking, "I wasn't addressing you, _Mr. Westergaard_." She felt a surge of smug satisfaction when she watched his handsome features contort into a sour expression.

At that moment, Pabbie entered the dining room. He was a genial old man with much wisdom. He wasn't the only victor that District 12 ever had, but he was the only one still living, so he would mentor them both. Elsa had met him once long ago, when her parents were still alive. As mayor of the town, her father was obliged to keep some contact with the victors.

One of the most memorable visits to him was one that still haunted her. Pabbie was a gifted herbalist and healer. It was his chosen 'talent' – the hobby that all victors had to define themselves by. On winter's night, her family had hastened to the victor's village, seek him out his help to cure the Anna's -

Elsa felt her hands shaking, and she peered down at them. Traces of ice lined the insides of her gloves. Taking a deep breath, she forced the memory out of her head, swinging herself back to present.

"What should we take from the Cornucopia when the game starts?" Hans asked the elderly man, while he helped filled the man's glass. Elsa shot him a disgusted look, but he didn't notice. Was he trying to suck-up to old man, perhaps so he would favour him over her? But Elsa was not particularly worried. Pabbie was a fair man.

"Nothing," their mento answered firmly. "At the most, grab what's close to you, but nothing more. It's too risky." He accepted the tray of bread that Hans passed to him, taking a slice before passing it to Elsa. "Do not engage in any fights as much as possible. Flee from the horn as much as you can. The Careers always have the advantage there."

Hans leaned in closer. "What do you mean?"

Irritated with this snub-nose redhead, Elsa decided to interrupt. In a cool, steely voice, she said, "They're comparatively richer and better fed than us, and they've been training for the Games all their life. What do _you_ think it means?"

She could feel that Hans struggling not to retort with some insulting comeback, and took delight in that.

Then she stopped herself. Feeling the small coal-pin on her collar, she wondered what how Anna would act if she were here. She would be extremely uncomfortable, undoubtedly, and she wouldn't be proud of her sister's rude behaviour.

Elsa's good spirits suddenly turned to shame. She was quiet for the rest of the meal, silently gobbling down the rich foods that surrounded them. It had been ages since she had eaten any of this. Being the Mayor's daughter of the poorest district in Panem didn't make them extremely wealthy, but apples had been plenty and meat had been common.

And chocolate! Chocolate came by the boxes, stashed in lace and ribbons. Prying eat one out carefully, she was careful to savour every morsel. Anna would have love this.

Well, this and _sandwiches_, apparently.

She cast a hasty glance at Hans, then turned so that he wouldn't notice. While his goody-to-shoes manner irritated her, he seemed sincerely cordial and kind. He had offered to pulled her chair back when she wanted to sit, though she refused, and had largely remained civil in their interactions.

_Maybe,_ for Anna's sake, she should try to be decent to him. That would be the appropriate response, if the train they were riding _wasn't_ taking them to an arena where they would have to kill each other in televised combat.

In that case, she would do the next best thing.

"I would like our trainings to be separate," she suddenly interjected, cutting into Pabbie and Han's exchange. The two men looked at her, astonished. Clearing her throat, she clarified, "I would prefer it if Hans and I took training separately. _If_ that is not too much trouble," she added, remembering to sound just as polite as the boy across her.

Pabbie's expression was unreadable, but Han's was clear. There was no anger nor resentment.

He was _hurt_.

She didn't quite expect that.

Rather stiffly, he rose to his feet. "I…" he stammered, then cleared his throat. Turning to Pabbie, he said respectfully as ever, "I'll wait outside. You can train her first."

Turning on his heel, he made his way to the door, shutting it quietly as he left the cabin.

Elsa heaved an inward sigh, feeling as if someone just dropped a stack of weights on her shoulders. Doors could easily be the symbol of her life; the way she shut out everyone who tried to reach out to her.

The rest of her 'training session' was in awkward silence, with only the clinking of utensils against cutlery.

* * *

**S/N: Hope you guys liked Flynn's intro! And Hans too!**

**Any guesses for who the other tributes? Don't expect yourself to name all though, coz' some of them are really obscure characters, and I've made some significant changes to some to fit the story (let's say…I genderbent someone, but this person is so insignificant I doubt y'all hate it). I'll be revealing who they all are in next chapter.**

**Oh, and any guesses who 'President Snow' is? I'm betting no one would see this coming…**

**HINT: I'm only using Disney and Dreamworks characters from 2010- movies (and maybe associated franchise…)**

**Up Next: **

'**...s**_**he didn't know if she should be afraid for him, or be afraid of him.'**_

'_**She had asked what did angels looked like... Here, he could let her see for herself.'**_

* * *

**A/N: Hi, another chapter already! Yes, because I've put my poor other fic on hold. Erm, yep.**

**Mailbox:**

**AliceInNeverland95: Glad you find it that way! Hope it gets better for you!**

**The Golden Sun: I love your compliments! So… yeah!**

**Elsa Arendelle: Thank you so much!**

**Guest: Glad you enjoyed it. To answer your question, Jack Frost does have powers. However, the one in this story is Jack Overland, who is very much mortal and powerless.****The question is, how long does Jack Overland **_**stay**_** as Jack Overland?**

**Awsomaniatica: Oh…hey there, Awsomaniatica…didn't think you'd read this fic, now that I've… I'm glad you like this story, heh heh… (*buries face in hands* Now just kill me.) **

**See y'all next week. If I'm still alive.**

**Review, Ask Questions, Critique.**

***Edited for Grammar as of 6 June 2016. Would appreciate PMs if you spot further errors.**


	5. Chapter 4: Building the Rep

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 4: Building the Rep

* * *

**District 2 Allocated Train Cabin**

Everyone called him useless. Herself included.

He was the town mess-up, the goof-off, the no-good. He was the one everyone picked on, even when they didn't have a reason to, because he was such an easy target.

That should make her feel better. If it wasn't that she'd be helping the town get rid of their biggest embarrassment, it'd be that she would help end his miserable existence. So _altruistic_, right?

Both flows of logic didn't comfort her at all. She idly stared at him across the table, not quite listening to what Gobber was saying. It wasn't that she really needed the hook-handed man's advice – she was the top student in Career Training Academy, for crying out loud. She wished she was in a training arena, wielding her favorite double-bladed axe, hacking and splintering dummies. That would be so much more comfortable than this stuffy, opulently decorated dining cabin.

Since District 2 had so many victors, the choice of mentors had been left to the tributes. She had expected him to choose Gobber, since his father and the old man were all chummy, but instead he had chosen Goethi, an elderly but wise victor who had lost the use of her voice during the Games. She wondered if it was because he didn't want a family friend as his mentor. At the same time though, she knew the old man wanted to tag along, keep an eye on the boy who was as good as his godson. So she took up the one-legged man herself.

"-if the mutts are the flyin' sort, then you'd best aim for them tails, aye! _Tails_, mind y'e, not the wings," Gobber was saying, before he ripped off another mouthful of chicken from his drumstick. Swallowing it whole, he carried on, "you'd see 'ere, you got the tails, them mutts won't be able to fly 'nymore. It'd be easier to slice 'em up after that, then you've got yourself a meal for a day or two. Well, till the meat goes bad-"

She couldn't stop herself from tuning out. She knew most of what he was telling her anyway. Her attentions, whether she liked it or not, were somehow completely taken up by the gangly boy across the table. He was hunched forward, diligently watching the elderly lady beside him drawing something on a sheet of paper.

She wondered if he remembered.

Maybe he did, and maybe he regretted it. She hadn't exactly reciprocated in gratitude. In the short years that he had attended the Academy, she had stood on sidelines through his fights and failures. She didn't contribute to the abuse, but she certainly didn't stop it. She had told herself that it'd help toughen him up, make him stronger; that's what hardship did to people. She of all people should know that.

Her parents had died early on, and though she had been taken in by the community home, it had been an unsaid truth that she had to fend for herself. So she had, taking on odd jobs of all kinds to earn every meal. Children weren't allowed in the stone quarries, but no one regulated the trees in the district. After saving up to buy her very first axe, she had begun chopping wood for a living. It hadn't been the worst job, and quite a number of people had been willing to pay for her cheap wood over the pricey coal imported from District 12.

That was, except during summer. Before, she'd always been careful save a little more during spring, but that year had been bad. Grain prices had suddenly hiked up, caused by a heat wave in District 9 that lasted through the harvesting seasons. She hadn't really noticed it until summer came and her pockets had been alarmingly empty.

The home hadn't provided the food regularly - District 2 didn't believe in handouts, after all. She hadn't been old enough to sign up for the tesserae, or she'd have done so in a heart beat. She had remembered the rainy night, trudging from street to street, with a stack of logs strapped to her back. Rain or no rain, summer nights had been too warm, and nobody had needed the wood.

When she had arrived at the mayor's manor, she had felt more hopeful. The 'Chief', as many affectionately dubbed the mayor, was a fearsome, burly man with a no-nonsense attitude, but it had not been unknown that he was one of great compassion.

Smiling, she had rapped smartly at the door, brushing back her wet bangs in anticipation. When the door had swung open, however, her face had fallen.

It had been Spitelout Jorgenson. He was one of the top officials in the Peacekeeping force. He was also the mayor's brother-in-law and practically his second-in-command in the district. He was a harsh man, as she had heard his son, Snotlout, grumble often. And he was one who didn't believe in pity.

"What are you doing here?" he had demanded gruffly, his raspy voice making clear his lack of patience.

"I…" she had stuttered, her eyes not quite daring to meet his. He was a hulk of a man, and at that time, she had been a lot of smaller.

The man had raised a brow at her challengingly. Her eyes had flickered back and forth between him and the hall behind him, hoping the mayor would suddenly appear around the corner.

Instead, she had caught a glimpse of a small, scuffled hair boy watching her from across the hall. He had made no move towards his uncle or her. She had no idea he had been there, watching. Besides the obvious fact that this had been his home, that is.

"…the mayor…I'd like to…" she had managed to get out. But the man had already raised his hand to halt her.

"The mayor doesn't have time for this, little girl," he had snarled condescendingly, his brows creasing evermore. "He has district to run, as do I. "

With that, he had slammed the door.

Sloshing through the muddy road, dejected, she had gone around to the back of the manor, dropping her stack of logs by the gate there. The rain had started pouring more heavily, but she couldn't be bothered to walk all the way back to the home.

She had always told herself that hardship made her stronger, it made her the fighter that she was. But at that moment, exhausted from walking, from hunger, from fighting so _hard_ to live, well, she had wished that her life wasn't this _hard_. She was had been almost certain that she would die that very night.

She hadn't been sure when, but she had eventually fallen asleep next to her mini-log pile. The rain had been falling on her so long that she had come to ignore it. She had been, however, startled awake when she had heard a terrible yell from inside the manor. From her spot, she had been tell that the conversation –if screaming could be called conversation- had been taking place on the second floor, near enough the windows for her to hear.

"-But do we have enough _bread-making_ Careers?" she had heard a voice squeak behind the windows.

"I'm struggling to get this district through a food shortage, and you are baking!" someone had bellowed from the inside – the mayor, she had realized.

Some inaudible words had been exchanged, before she had heard the nasal-voice mutter, "Fine, fine, I won't do it again."

"And get rid of that! It's not fit for anyone here to eat." That had been the last she heard from the Mayor. She'd wondered if she should try knocking again, but considering his sour mood, she'd doubted she'd have any success.

The second floor window had flung open and she had suddenly become aware that she was directly in the sights of the brown-haired boy standing there. Both of them had stared at each other for a while, before he had moved away from the window. When he had returned, he had carried two loaves of bread, both burnt on the top. With a careless toss, the loaves had landed neatly on not the mud or the bushes, but on her log pile. Without another glance at her, he had shut the windows.

She had never known if he had intended to help her when he had first seen her at the door; or only after he'd seen her in the rain; or that he had never intended to help her at all. But the two half-burned loaves kept her on her feet for the next four days. On the fourth day, headhunters had found her hacking away at a tree. They had removed her from the home to sponsor her a lifetime education in the Career Academy.

She could never tell him, but she owed him her life.

And she'd probably have to kill him.

Before they had left the district, the mayor had visited her. That was considered a great honor, since mayors didn't go around visiting every tribute, especially those that weren't family. She distinctly remembered the exchange.

"Sir," she had addressed him as such due to her nervousness, "I just want you to know that I will try." '_Try not to kill your son'_ were her unspoken words.

She had wondered if he had understood, but the deep sigh that he made showed that he did. All the he replied was "Do what you need to do."

She didn't quite get that.

The lights outside suddenly went dark as the train plunged in. The train cabin suddenly went silent, with everyone dropping whatever they were doing.

They were here.

Bursting into brilliant white, some distance away above the above a massive lake stood the grand capital of Panem.

Astrid barely noticed she was holding her breath. Rising to her feet, she went over the window, ogling at the gleaming silver city. They said District 2 was one of the wealthiest districts, but she had never seen anything like the Capitol. If she won the Games, this would be her home. Well, whenever she was invited, that is. You never came to the Capitol unless you were invited.

"You'll get over it," a small voice chimed in. He was standing by her side, watching the city roll from view. "I've been here a few times, and the 'wow' factor sorta diminishes with each visit."

She didn't know when she started narrowing her brows at him, but she did, and it was ferocious enough to make him back off several inches -no- make that several feet.

"_Annndddd _I'll shut up now," he muttered, folding his arms as he deliberately turned from her direction, edging away a bit more.

The tracks kept rolling on, taking them into another tunnel.

She still pondered over the mayor's last words. His vague reply could only mean that he left the decision to her - at least, that's what she could make of it. So what was her decision?

She knew without a doubt she wanted to win. It was the dream of every child in District 2. Well, almost every child, at least.

She wondered what he dreamed of. She had seen the strange crafts he had made before. She bet he'd rather be born in District 3 instead, where his geekiness would be embraced, his intelligence respected and every one of his creations upheld.

The cabin was lit up again when they rolled into the city. Overwhelmed by the brilliant colors that decorated both the streets and the people on it, Astrid stepped back, amazed and afraid at the same time.

Some citizens caught sight of the tribute train and rushed over, madly waving and cheering at them. Astrid pulled herself back further, unwilling to looking down at them. She knew the Capitol folk had a strange sense of fashion, but she didn't expect everyone of them to dressed like _that_.

However, the scrawny boy by her side didn't seem the slightest perturbed by them. Instead, he was waving too, grinning goofily back at them. The volume of the cheers only increased as he did.

Shooting him a questioning glance, he just shrugged. "One of them might be rich," he explained, before facing the window again.

Dumbstruck, she didn't know whether to be afraid for him, or afraid of him.

* * *

**Remake Centre**

"Don't fight, don't argue, just go with it. Bruiser and Killer may seem like lunatics, but they really know what they are doing."

That had been Flynn's advice to her. He had been pretty traumatized after the whole 'throw-out-of-train' incident, but he shook off after a while and became the obliging mentor. Still, she dropped threats every now and then, just to make sure they stayed on the same page.

She had barely seen the male tribute, Greno, but she hadn't let it bother her. Instead, she had spent the hours on the train alternating between interrogating Flynn pointedly about the Games and exploring all the incredible machines in the room. She had sampled every type of food available, tried on every dress that they had provided in the cabins, and had used eight bottles of ink for sketching alone. Eventually, she decided that the paper they had was too small, so she started drawing on the tables instead. The capitol representative largely frowned upon that action, but somehow, the little rebelliousness had gotten her into Flynn's good books.

After that, he had helped her obtain thirteen canisters of paint - 'secret stash' had been his only explanation. Between the two of them, the insides of every train cabin had been thoroughly redecorated when it drew up to the station. Of course, Flynn's idea of painting had been just throwing fistfuls of paint at the walls and then cackling madly at it, but for her, it was all seriousness. Every dab, every brush allowed her to pretend for a moment that she was an true artist, drinking in inspiration and on the verge of producing the trigger for the next _avantgarde_.

But there were no paints now, and Flynn wasn't here. She was lying down, half-naked, in the presence of two terrifying old men, who debating in an odd accent that she couldn't quite make out. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew she'd freak out if either one of them so much as lifted a pair of scissors. Flynn had promised that he would help get the approval for her hair somehow, but she wasn't sure if he had told these two guys that.

Pascal was sitting on the dressing table, camouflaging himself amongst the various bottle and paints. Flynn had made it clear that pets were no-no in the arena, but there weren't too many objections to it before that. Still, it would best if people didn't see Pascal.

They gave her a dress that was just the right size - not too loose, not too tight. She noticed that it bore many similarities to the dress that she had worn at the Reapings. It made her glad that the haughty Capitol folk approved of her color choices, and it did comfort her to see the warm pink and purple colors pressing against her form.

"Eyes shut," she heard Bruiser, -or was it Killer? – growl. Obediently, her lids snapped shut. She could feel them tracing up the lids, then pumping her cheeks with some strange powder than made her sneeze. Still, when she dared a peek at herself, she was glad to note make up slapped on her was minimal. Bruiser rumbled to her that they were going for 'girlish-charm' look, since that was already her natural appearance. She wasn't sure if this would be advantageous in getting sponsors, but she remembered Flynn's advice and kept her thoughts to herself.

Finally, everything was done. They brought her before the mirrors so she could get a full view of herself. She didn't appear particularly aggressive or dangerous, nor did she appear drop-dead sexy, or particularly attractive even. Her long, blonde hair braided with flowers, and the simple pink and purple dress made her look like nothing more than a simple village girl. She supposed this was Flynn's strategy; to make her seen harmless and naïve, when he knew how vicious she could really be. Okay, not exactly _vicious_, but he knew she was no pushover.

When the two designers left to argue over the heels for her shoes, she hopped over to the dressing table. Pascal was there, examining the different shades of blue eye shadow, then experimenting with changing his skin color accordingly. He made a cheerful piping sound when he saw her, giving an approving nod at her new look.

"Thank you, Pascal," she said gratefully. Scooping him up in her palm, she set him into a pocket on the side of her dress. He curled himself in a little ball, crooning as he made himself comfortable.

"Good news, Goldie!" she heard Flynn's voice behind her, "I've just talked to the guys and got the clearance, so you get to keep _your hair on_-" he broke off when he caught sight of her, jaw-dropped.

She grinned at him, amused at his response. Doing a little twirl so that he could see the full braid, she asked, "What do you think?"

He spent a moment or two staring at her. In a rather wheezy voice, he stuttered, "Wow…you…really…" Clearing his throat, he started again, his voice still wheezy, "You look great."

"You really think so?" she inquired, a tinge anxious, gesturing down at herself. "I still think I come off as the 'immature, clumsy' type-"

"C'mon, don't you trust the taste of the Capitol's most of fashionable man?" He smirked, striking get an exaggerated pose for emphasis. Rapunzel couldn't help bursting into giggles.

Eventually, she had found out from him, and from the other victors on the train, that 'Flynn Rider' was practically a brand name in the Capitol. He was a true campaigner for male fashion and cosmetics here, though he claimed that he needed neither to show-off his already 'amazing good looks'. He was extremely popular amongst the richer female population here, tight with the upper social circles in the Capitol and he had already met everyone worth meeting in the Panem. And he had only been a victor for _six _years.

Flynn could be an incredibly influential mentor, if he _bothered_ mentoring.

"Well, your chariot awaits, princess," he told her, holding out an arm that she gladly took.

Scanning the room with wide eyes, she asked, "Where?"

He raised a brow at her. "Err, downstairs?"

"Oh, right," she nodded, blushing slightly. "I knew that."

"Yeah, you did," he agreed, not hiding the mockery in his voice, leading her to the glass elevator. In a low voice, he whispered to her, "Got the frog?"

"_Chameleon_," she corrected with a frown. Pascal gave a assertive squeak from the pocket, and she patted the pocket affectionately.

"Whatever," Flynn muttered, looking considerably disturbed as he eyed that pocket. Straightening his green vest, he called to the two stylists, "See you guys down." They only grunted in response.

Stepping in the lift with her, the doors shut behind them, and the elevator descended.

Rapunzel let go of his arm at that point, just so she could press her nose against the elevator glass. Game Centre was one of tallest buildings in the Capitol, and from the lift, it was possible to see the entire landscape. Far west, the setting sun reflected off the glittering waters of the city,with only the boldest streaks falling on the silver towers. The bright lights that sparkled all over the city reminded her of the starry night sky, only more brilliant and vivid. She wished she could get her hands on some paper right now, and watercolors too would be lovely, just to capture this magnificent view.

She sighed, scooping a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "It's really beautiful. I'd have love to come here under-" she scrunched up her face "-under different circumstances."

"I felt that too. The first time."

She spun towards him, blinking. His expression was a distant one, as if he was recalling something from long ago, and something quite unpleasant too. He probably didn't know it, but the long hours together in the train had taught her quite a bit about him. She observed that in between the flippant and flirter, he would occasionally slip into a dark sort of moodiness, with an unspoken horror written over his face.

"Were you afraid?" she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

And with that, he flipped back to frivolous Flynn again. "Whoa, Blondie! Sorry, I don't do back stories."

She heaved an inward sigh. And here she thought they were actually having a moment.

"However," he continued, "I am becoming _increasingly_ interested in yours. What's with the hair?" He gestured up the heavy braid that hung from her back.

Imitating his mannerism, she drawled, "Nope, 'I don't do back stories'. But,-" she gave him a wide smile, shining her bright green eyes temptingly at him, "I can compromise at a _trade_."

He seemed like he was thinking of some suitable rejoinder, but gave up with a fold of him arms. "I hate you."

Maybe a few hours ago, she would've taken him seriously. But now, she just brushed it off. "Nah, you don't. You're just saying that to make yourself feel better."

He rolled his eyes, muttering to himself.

She wasn't sure when they linked arms again, but she wasn't the one who initiated it.

* * *

**Chariots Waiting Area**

"Do I have to?"

"_Yes!_"

Jack groaned, raising his arms to the gray ceiling, demanding why he was put in such a miserable position.

His mentor was completely unsympathetic. "C'mere, mate," the tattooed man hissed at him, grabbing him by the shoulder, dragging him past the District 9 chariot. "See that guy over there?"

Jack followed his mentor's finger, which was to a young man in his early twenties. He was helping up the tribute from District 8 – the girl with the long hair – up the chariot. He was dressed fashionably, rather quite like the Capitol people, though not quite as ridiculously, so obviously he was no tribute.

"Now that bloke over there," Bunnymund hissed to the brown-haired boy on his right. "He was fifteen when he won – two years younger than you, mind. You know how he won?"

Jack examined the man carefully. He was tall, but not fantastically so. His shifty eyes suggested that he was remarkably aware of his surroundings, and his lean form probably had more muscle than outward appearance hinted. He was probably very fast on his feet, good with his hands and prettyintelligent.

Jack answered confident, "He pretended to be a weakling, then come the games" - he made a 'whooshing' sound effect' – "revealed himself to be a regular 'demon in Paradise'."

"No, ya gumby!" His mentor cried in frustration. "He won by being a ladies' man! The good looks won him sponsors, you fool!" He started making noises that sounded like something in between screaming and tearing out his own throat.

Jack decided to give his mentor some space, taking the moment to inspect the other tributes. The only ones who looked really good were District 1. They were laced in diamond and silver jewellery, both preening like marble statues of perfection. District 2 wasn't too badly off; well, the female tribute came off as the sexy _femme fatale,_ with her spiked skirt and shoulder guards, but the scrawny boy by her side appeared very uncomfortable in his fur coat and horned helmet. It may have been partly caused by his female counterpart glaring daggers at him.

The rest of the districts were dressed in ridiculous costumes according to their district's main industry. District 3 were draped in tangles of wire – some reference to their technological home. District 4 were pretty much just in the underwear and nets – _too cliché_, he thought to himself. District 5 were dressed like lightning bolts - literally. The male tribute seemed to fit his costume well enough, with his spiky blonde tufts matching the yellow suit. On the other hand, his female counterpart's own red shock of hair clashed horribly with the garb, and the dark glare she wore told Jack that she knew that.

When he turned around to take a look at the Districts at the back, it seemed like time just stopped.

When their father had passed away, people had told Emma that he had gone to join the angels. Since then, she had been asking what angels looked like. Jack had described them the way everyone else did - robes of white, feathered wings and a golden halo over their brow. But if she were here, he could let her see for herself.

Okay, maybe the dress was blue, and the girl didn't have a halo, but Jack didn't care.

The shimmering blue dress matched her brilliant azure eyes perfectly. The white train attached to her sleeves flowed like a ring of clouds around her. The silver blonde hair in a French plait hung by her head, with her bangs whipped back.

That night, Jack understood what the word 'mesmerized' meant.

He suddenly found himself picked up by the collar, drawn dangerously closed to his gray-haired mentor's scowl. "Lem'me ask ya, mate," Bunnymund growled. "Do ya want to die?"

Jack's eyes darted back to the 'angel'. From the corner of his eyes, he noted how graceful she was when she ascended the chariot, keeping her chin up high as she calmly surveyed the others. She was noticeably nervous, however, considering how often she wrung her hands.

"Hey!" His mentor shook him again.

Jack's attentions returned to the pressing present. "Yes, yes, I want to win, okay? Now can you put me down?"

"Then you listen close!" The man barked, though he did drop Jack. "You will smile; you will wave; you will use those good looks! You will flirt. You will blow kisses. You will get girls to swoon at the sight of you. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack sighed, straightening out the blue coat that was his costume. Girls fawning over him? Great, like high school, but ten times worse.

"I said, do I make myself clear?"

Jack groaned again, rolling his eyes. Reluctantly, he mumbled, "Yes."

"Good, now." Bunnymund grabbed his elbow and forcefully hauled him back to the District 10, kicking him up the steps and placing him next to his female counterpart. Shoving a staff in his hands, his last words were, "I'll be watching you."

Jack grumbled under his breath as he watched the old victor hop off the chariot, away from the waiting area.

"He means well, you know," a charming, light voice piped in.

He turned to see a girl dressed in green feathers, complete with glass-like wings attached to her back. It was only thanks to her exposed face that he recognized her at all.

"Toothiana?"

"Just Tooth would do." She smiled, displaying her impeccably white teeth. "Hi, Jack. Been some time, since elementary school."

"Yeah," Jack grinned back, brushing his finger in his brown hair, messing up with the hairspray again. Then he stopped. "Wait, we're talking?"

"Yes," she answered, slightly puzzled.

"You're okay with that?"

She still didn't get it. "_Yes…_"

"Cool, okay," he replied, tucking his hand into the hoodie pockets.

"You're looking real casual," Tooth commented, eyeing his blue sweatshirt and brown three-quarters.

"Um..." He spun the hooked the staff in his hand. "This is a shepherd's crook, I think, so I'm … a shepherd?"

"Possibly, but the hoodie?" She pointed out.

Jack raised his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me. I just wear the clothes. Anyway, you're just like some princess fairy!" He gestured at her attire.

"Fairy? You're too nice. Um," she peered down at her suit. "Well, I think I'm supposed to be some kind of - chicken."

He cocked a brow. "Chicken?"

"Well, a glorified, rainbow chicken, I suppose," she lamented mockingly. " I won't be surprised if this is what Capitol people think chicken look like. They probably have never seen one."

"Rainbiw chicken. Hmm." He somehow made to sound grave when he said it.

Simultaneously, they both burst out laughing. Goodness, fancy-pants shepherd boys and rainbow chickens, the images were far too much for them to stay sober. As they clutched their sides, cackling their heads off, the tributes in other chariots glared at them. Jack didn't care though. If they were going to die before the week was out, they might as well make some memories of fun.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Spitelout – Snotlout's father and Stoic second-in-command, make appearances in both httyds, but his name is only mentioned briefly in httyd2. Appearsa lot more in the TV series. **

**Bruiser and Killer – "Bruiser knits, Killer sews, Fang does little puppet shows…" **

**Greno – The guy who called the guards to Snuggly Duckling. I still suspect he's named after Bryan Greno (a director of Tangled)**

**Some Ages (for the curious):**

**Flynn – 21 (C'mon, the artists said he's 8 years older than Rapunzel. I've **_**actually**_** cut the gap)**

**Toothiana – 17 **

**Astrid - 14**

**Hans – 17 (mentioned in chapter 2)**

**I think I'll be mean and not reveal all tribute identities till next update. More suited then anyways, since you'll get to actually see some of these characters in motion first. **

**I thought I'd be doing an Elsa POV this round, but apparently not. Hope you've enjoyed Astrid' backstory, and Rapunzel's and Jack's POVs!**

**Up Next: **

"…**first chariot on my count, on my count…"**

"**Why don't I have gloves?"**

* * *

**A/N: Update again! **

**I've just watched Big Hero 6. It was pretty good; had really intense moments, and really heart-warming moments. Amazing animation, but kind too fast paced for me to absorb all. Will watch in slow-mo come DVD. Besides that, really good. And the marvel references!**

**Mailbox: **

**electricalangel12: Your predictions are very interesting…I'm afraid I can't say anything about them – just in case of spoilers. Yeah…Elsa was being pretty mean to Hans, but I hope that throughout the story I'll be able to justify her rather complicated relationship with Hans, especially in the 'sister's boyfriend' vs 'competitor' department. I'm hoping also develop Hans' character as thoroughly as possible, may even a POV for him someday. I'll re-look at the prologue again tosee if there's a way I can present it better. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Awsomaniatica: Glad you liked it. Hope you've enjoyed Jack's part. A Hiccup POV is likely to turn up in either the next or next next chapter (yay English). I have to balance out by bringing Merida soon too though. I can tell you I'm unlikely to bring in Shrek anytime soon, since I'm not familiar with its franchise, but keep guessing on the tributes. Hint: I didn't mention that the twins here are blonde…**

**See y'all soon!**


	6. Chapter 5: Chariots of Ice

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 5: Chariots of Ice

* * *

**Game Centre**

He liked it dark.

To some, this would be odd. But the Gamemakers have not only gotten used to it; they've respected it and embraced it. Henceforth, everything in the Game Centre was designed black; black walls, black desks, black doors. The only colours were the white lights, ribbed into the desks and into the ceiling, and the holographic computers were lit up into a cyan blue.

These lights were only for the other Gamemakers, of course. He didn't need it.

He had been sitting here for a long time, in silence and in darkness. His elbows resting on his black desk, his shoulders hunched forward and his chin resting on the back of his bony fingers. It would look like he was sleeping, except that those who knew the Head Gamemaker would know he never slept.

He pondered over the tributes. It was an extraordinary mix this year; already, there were two volunteers; a pretty boy; a few wiry muscles and the usual dead meats. Many of them appeared intelligent, which he appreciated much more than all brawn-no-brains variety. They always made the games more interesting.

Of course, it was troubling that there were two mayors' children here, especially the one from District 5. She seemed like a fighter, but if she didn't come home, the current situation in the power-producing district would probably worsen, and the President would blame him - again. He grimaced at thought, but more in annoyance than fear.

He was also intrigued with the blonde with long hair. Rider had been around to inquire about it earlier, and permission had been granted after much flattery. But besides that, the Head Gamemaker couldn't help feel that he knew that girl from elsewhere. He made a mental note to check up on that.

There were also the matter of preparing for that boy. What was his name-

A knock on his door broke his train of thought. After an ungracious snarl, he answered in his chilling cool voice, "Enter."

A small figure of gamemaker appeared at the door. "S…sir?" he stuttered nervously. The Head Gamemaker was a rather terrifying figure, and after all over the thirty years of his service to the Capitol, the man had built quite a reputation of his eccentric severity.

"What is it, you lump head?" Pitch hissed, annoyed at having his peace disturbed with, and now even more so due to his immense dislike of stuttering fools.

"The c…ceremony, sir," the gamemaker stammered, quivering in his boots. "It's starting." He was probably wishing he didn't have the misfortune of dealing with the ominously dark man.

The Head Gamemaker's yellow eyes shot open, gleaming with wicked delight. "Finally," he murmured, a maniacal grin twisted onto this pale gray face. He pushed back his chair, drawing himself to his full height, remarking to himself, "Time to have a little _fun_."

Pushing past the shaking Gamemaker, he made his way to the central game control. Entering the circular dome, he descended the steps, down to its centre. Upon seeing him, the gamemakers immediately ceased whatever they were doing, rising to greet him.

With a wave of his hand, he got them to seat themselves. Surveying the members of the panel, he addressed them, "Gentlemen, ladies, the 74th Hunger Games begin in minutes. As usual, I expect every one of you to devote yourself complete into giving Panem an entertaining show and give our little Capitol folks something talk about for the next week or so" – some nervous tittering there - "but above all, do not forget the central mission of these Games." He paused for dramatic emphasis, as if his subordinates dared not to pay attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he chose a Gamemaker sitting near the front. "You!"

"Yes, sir!" the Gamemaker answered quickly, though her eyes betrayed her alarm.

He questioned her, "What is the mission?"

She blinked, then scurried for an answer. "To do whatever the President says, sir?"

The Head Gamemaker rolled his eyes. "_Minions_. Always think too small," the man lamented, rubbing his temple emphatically. To the others in the Game Centre, he demanded, "Anyone else?"

The hall was decidedly silent.

The Head Gamemaker groaned with such ferocity that some of the Gamemakers were tempted to cow under their onyx desks. Finally, he bellowed, "_Fear_, you dolts! That's our central mission." Seeing that the Gamemakers only stared blankly back at him, he grudgingly dropped subject. Time was running short, anyhow, and he couldn't expect these idiots to understand the sophistication behind their work. "Get to work."

Immediately, the Gamemakers thawed and swung back into action. Several blue holographic screens appeared, surrounding him. His exasperated expression then gave way to the faint amusement that touched his lips as he watched the excited Capitol crowds in one screen, and the nervous tribute in the chariots in another.

"The first chariot on my count, gentlemen." He told them, unable to hide his glee. He loved his job. After all, there was nothing he loved more than fear, and what were the Hunger Games _but fear_?

"15…14…13…"

* * *

**Chariot Waiting Area**

She was stunning. She was elegant. She was gorgeous.

She didn't have gloves.

"Why can't I have gloves?" She had inquired anxiously of her stylist, Olaf. He had been a surprisingly likeable person, despite his strange make-up which made him look almost a walking, talking snowman. Really. Everything about was colored in some shade of completely white, hair and skin included. She would have preferred to dislike him completely, heap all her resentment to the Capitol on him, but he was too childlike, too likeable for her to blame him for what his city was going to do her. She'd rather doubted he completely understood the implications of the games, given how naive he seemed.

"Because gloves were would ruin the effect of the dress, Elsa," he had explained, almost like a doctor prescribing medication to an unwilling patient. "You have to look bold! And courageous! Unafraid of the cold!"

"Cold?" Elsa had been taken aback. He couldn't know, could he? They had just met that day!

"-Which you are, by the way," Olaf continued rambling good-humoredly. "It was really brave of you to take your sister's place. It's like true sisterly _love_." He had sighed happily, then had made a cheerful gurgle as he braid up her hair. "So…no gloves!"

She regretted that she hadn't pushed her case harder – Olaf had been too nice already – because she could swear that her hands were turning blue that moment. Taking deep breaths, she shoved aside her fear of the crowds; of the games. _"Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel-"_

"Nice dress. The ice fits you."

She jumped. It was Hans, standing by her left in the chariot.

She whipped around, anxious. "I…Ice?" She stared down at herself. Had she frozen her dress by accidentally? Then she realized he must have been talking about the recurring snowflake theme that her dress was designed with.

"Thank you," she answered unsurely. She did feel horrible about what happened in the train, but that was the only thing she could do - for Anna. It was best if she and Hans never interacted, ensuring that they formed no ties. It would be easier for Anna to bear. Right?

Or just easier for _her_, when she broke her sister's heart?

She wasn't sure why she was so certain she'd have to be the one to kill him. It wasn't as if they weren't twenty-two other children here.

Twenty-two other children like them. And only one would leave.

She glanced at his attire. He wore a white overcoat over his yellow tunic, with white pants and knee-high black boots. She noticed that he had a spray of snowflake patterns over his coat too, though not as obviously as her train.

And he had _gloves_.

"You look good, too," she found her saying, "I'm not completely sure either of our clothes has to do with coal mining though." _So much for no interaction._

"We are dressed in winter-themed attire," Hans mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder…" Then suddenly, he let out a snort of laughter. "Of course! But that is really _lame_-"

"What is it?" She asked, quite surprised by his outburst. She was pretty amazed with herself by now, that she hadn't frozen the entire chariot. Yet.

"Don't you get it?" Hans gasped, still chortling. He then explained, "Our district is specializes in C-O-A-L. We dressed like in ice-themed costume. And what's ice and winter? C-O-L-D."

Elsa's eyes widened. "Coal and cold…" she murmured. "Wow. That _is_ terribly lame."

"I know, right?" Hans chortled. It was pretty infectious, and Elsa found herself giggling, though she coughed it away quickly.

The blast of the Panem anthem through the room quieted them. The opening ceremony had begun.

The massive doors before them swing open, the chariots start rolling down the streets, starting with District 1's chariots. Elsa shut her eyes, repeating to herself a few more times. _'Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel.'_

Feeling a sense of peace settling over her, her lids flit open, hardened and cold. The blue in hands fade away, and she unclasp them. _'Put on a show.'_

Just as the District 11's chariots started to pull away, Olaf ran up to their chariot, saying something to Hans, since he was the nearer of the two, before retreating back.

"What did he say?" Elsa asked, but before she got an answer, the chariot jolted forward, wheeling them into the Streets of the Capitol.

It was as if she had entered another universe. The throngs that filled the stands fused into a colorful, and thunderous cheers exploded in her head. Dizzily, she tried to focus on the long stretch of road ahead, but she couldn't. She felt sick, watching all these flamboyantly dressed creatures screaming at her. Her knees buckling, she quickly grabbed onto the rail lining the chariot. That was her biggest mistake.

Without warning, the railings of the chariots suddenly sparkled with new frost, and the entire chariots transformed into from its original black color into blue crystal that matched her dress. So thick was ice formation that even as their chariots rolled on, a trail of ice followed behind them, marking a line of shimmering white-blue along the streets of the Capitol.

The sinking feeling Elsa had felt turned into one of absolutely horror. She glanced around her subtly, as not to seem anxious or fearful. Her muscles tensed and holding her breath, she waited for the crowds to respond.

The crowds didn't scream. Or jeer.

Instead, they jumped to their feet, roaring, clapping, waving. Some stuck up their fists in the air, called out 'Twelve' over and over. A phrase seemed to be passed around, and more and more joined in the chant.

"Snow Queen! Snow Queen!"

Astounded, Elsa could only gawk around in surprise. One of the passing banner-like screens gave her a glimpse of herself, and she could barely believe it.

Against the dazzling refractions and reflections of the light in the ice-coated chariot, the crystal blue dress that garbed her glistened and glittered. Her usually pale face glowed like the break of dawn. Here she stood like the light of day, as radiant as the rising sun and as deadly as a snowstorm. She was the Queen tonight, and everything about her screamed that fact.

"I guess that's the special effects he was talking about," she heard Hans mutter to her softly. She noted that he was waving and smiling to the adoring masses, and copied him.

"What special effects?" she asked under her breath, though she didn't face him.

"Olaf. He mentioned he did something to your costume. I never knew clothes could do that though," was Hans' reply. "It's pretty impressive, hey?"

"Yes, it is," Elsa answered, secretly sighing in relief. So that what everyone thought what the ice and snow were; nothing more than a really cool special effect. Nobody suspected the truth yet, which was good. She still didn't know how the Capitol would react if they knew about her 'abilities'. What bugged her now was _how did Olaf know? _And if he knew, why didn't he give her gloves, or at least tell her what to do once the chariots were out?

The question plagued her, but she forced herself to stay in the present, keeping her hands on the chariot railing as much as possible, only daring a wave every now and then. There was still a lot of road to cover with they reached the city circle, and she didn't want to accidentally freeze up a bunch of spectators.

She must have been still shivering, because Hans asked her, "Cold? We're surrounded by ice after all."

She nodded, unwilling to tell him exactly what was on her mind. She did note the irony in his question, though.

She did jump slightly when she felt his gloved hand over her own on the railing. "Whoa, you _are_ like ice."

She snatched her hand away, shooting him a cross glare. This was him trying to get close to her, _again_. She wished he would stop; at least it would make her hate herself less, if nothing else.

He was ready her objections this time though. "Pabbie said we should look like a team."

At that, she hesitated. This boy could be lying for she knew, but there wasn't a reason why he should be.

"For Anna's sake, please."

That nearly stopped her heart. The opening ceremony was televised all over Panem, and it was mandatory for all District citizens to watch. Right now, Anna was probably sitting in front of the television, her hair in her mouth, her eyes glued to the screen.

_For Anna's sake._ She didn't resist when he took her hand again.

"You're really cold," he commented again, as his gloved fingers twined with hers.

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. She supposed that freezing off his arm couldn't be that bad. "It's the suit," she lied mildly.

When Hans raised their clasped hands up in the air, the crowds went wild. Well, _wilder,_ since their unholy enthusiasm was already approaching barbaric. Everyone seemed to love the image of their team spirit - not that it existed. But Elsa didn't oppose it. She allowed herself to flash smiles in every direction. Once, in a moment of boldness, she allowed herself to blow a kiss. She couldn't stop the snowflakes that flew along with it, but the crowd loved it. No one shrieks of fear, no one shouts of 'monster'. The Snow Queen was the show-stealer, and everyone knew it.

Eventually they drew up to the city circle, where the other chariots had already halted. Hans lowered their arms, but he didn't release her hand. Privately, she was glad that he didn't. She could barely stay on her feet as it was, and he was a steady as a mast. She also liked the warm sensation of his palm against her cold ones. It calmed her, and she noticed that her left hand hadn't frozen anything since he had held it.

Right before them stood the President's mansion, a chillingly grand building, and an elderly man dressed in a dark purple suit made his way to the podium. He beamed benignly over the tributes, and over the Capitol. The Panem anthem rumbled to an end, and the crowds' cheers died in eager anticipation to hear their leader speak. Elsa found herself clutching her counterpart's hand more fiercely. Here stood the figure of Capitol's power, terror and cruelty - President Lotso.

His manner was genial, like a grandfather greeting his children. "Welcome, Tributes, welcome, to the 74th Annual Hunger Games." His smile seemed kind, but it only sent shivers down Elsa's spine. "We, at the capitol, salute you " he continued, his voice strong and resonant, "for your courage and for your _sacrifice_."

She and Hans exchanged glances. Somehow she felt that, for once, they had some common ground that didn't involved her sister. Behind them, the ignorant crowds of the Capitol cheered.

"To each one of you, Happy Hunger Games," the President wished, gazing down to chariots below, still with a haunting smile – _smirk_, Elsa felt. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

The crowds roared again, and the anthem was blasted over the streets once more. One by one, the chariots began rolling away. Elsa noted that some of the old ice trail had melted away, but began to grow back when the District 12 chariots rolled over them. When that happened, the throngs screamed again. From the hanging screens above them, she was glad to see that she and Hans were still getting more airtime than the other tributes. That was good for their image.

_Their_…when had she started including him in her thoughts?

Hans had released her hand at this point, which, she had to admit, disappointed her slightly. However, she noted he was removing his white gloves. These he handed to her. "Here."

She stared down at the gloves, not understanding.

"Take them, please." He nodded at the gloves, then back at her. "You're freezing."

She couldn't tell him how accurate that statement was, but she was more than happy to accept the gloves before slipping them over her tingling palms.

As they returned to back to bottom floor of the Remake Centre, Elsa noticed that many tributes were giving them dark looks. She noted that District 1's and 2's female tributes were giving her especially rather poisonous glares.

"You guys were fabulous!" Olaf cried as he met them, doing a little dance as he did. Hans was the first to jump off the chariots, before helping Elsa get out, since her train was had gotten caught in one of the rails. If this happened this morning, she would have refused his aid pointedly, but now she accepted it with thanks.

When she dropped to Olaf's side, she whispered to him, "Um, Olaf?"

"Yeah?" the little man answered eagerly.

"You told Hans about the 'special effects', right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Did you tell the public that too?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Why did you tell him – and them – that?"

"Oh, Pabbie told me to," he told her lightly. Elsa raised her head to her elderly mentor, who was watching some distance away. He gave her faint a nod.

It dawned on her. So it was _Pabbie_ who knew. That made sense, considering he was there when Anna…but why hadn't he…then would he tell…

"Elsa," she heard a voice call to behind her. It was Hans. "That braid," he pointed it her platinum-blonde French plait, "it's the same as what you wore to the reaping, isn't it?"

She nodded. It was just this morning, but reaping seemed years away. "Anna did it for me."

The mention of her sister brought a grin to his face. "Well, you should keep it. It looks good on you."

"Thank you." She replied. With good-humor, she commented, "The sideburns work for you too. You should consider growing a beard."

He laughed - a genuine laugh that reached his eyes. It was difficult to hate Hans. He was too much of a gentlemen; too much of a sweetheart.

For, perhaps, the first time in forever, Elsa could see through her sister's eyes.

* * *

**District 5 Living Quarters**

Merida was so happy when she finally burst out of the elevator. After holding herself together for the last two hours, she couldn't be more relieved to tear her body out of the ghastly yellow contraption they had called a costume.

Shouting and shrieking, she danced madly in her underclothes, much to the disapproval of the Capitol escort. Casting her 'costume' into the nearby fireplace, she sped off to explore the area.

The living quarters were within the Training Centre itself, and each districts' tributes had an entire level to themselves. Merida doubted Wee Dingwall was going to make full use of the premises, so that meant she had most of the floor to herself.

She went through the lounges, the libraries, the bedrooms and even the billiard rooms - she wondered if any tribute actually used those. She fiddled with millions of controls available in each room, changing the wallpapers and the floor textures everywhere she went. The bathroom was the most fun; she didn't know who could add so many different scents, or that bubbles could come in various 'fluff levels'. Her mother probably adored this most of visiting the Capitol.

She drew her hand away from the bath control panel. This was actually the first time she was at the Capitol. Her mother had expected to bring her when she was seventeen, during the Quarter Quell. Sometimes mayors were invited to the Quarter Quells, after all. Here, she would have been a representative of District 5, as a picture of true elegance, light wit and daintiness that the Capitol appreciated. She would probably helped her mother in negotiating around the ministers, sitting through tight and tense dialogues with other mayors, or engaging frivolous and meaningless chatter with the wealthiest in the Capitol. That could have very well been her life.

And it would probably have killed her.

She laughed bitterly at the irony. Her mother had crafted a destiny for her to secure her position amongst the finest in the Capitol – assuming that she was never reaped – that would certainly have guaranteed her a suffocating existence. So, to change her fate, she chose a deviant path, and now she and twenty-three children were on their way to a fight to the death.

She shook her head firmly. No, when she chose this path, she chose it only because she would win. Her head hurt. Maybe she was tired from the parade. Or maybe from the lying to herself – _urgh_, there it was again!

She never had found herself with such a lack of confidence. She wished she had her bow and arrows, with her back against a stately oak, breathing in the fresh autumn breeze-

That's it! Some air is what she needed to get her head straight.

Picking up speed again, she dashed to her room first, just to throw on some decent clothes. With that done, she hustled through the rooms, passing by the dining room. The crazy old witch was there, chatting merrily with her crow. Wee Dingwall was leaning back against a plush chair, unaware that he was drooling on his plate. The stylists and the capitol escort were so engaged in conversation that they didn't notice that she had swiped a few meat buns from the table. Shoving those in her pocket, she made her way to the elevator before anyone could stop her.

When the doors closed, she jabbed the button for the roof. She had overheard about it from the stylist – it was an open air garden of sorts and free-access to everyone in the building. Merida would have been glader if they had trees, but she decided that the 'open air' part was good too.

Finally, she arrived at the garden. It looked like the small flower patches that her mother liked growing, with plotted plants and assorted shrubbery, but no trees. On the bright side, it had quite a remarkable view of the glowing Capitol buildings, and it was very windy.

Merida went right to the parapet. Climbing up and onto it, she stood herself up, surveying the city. She could see the large silvery President Palace from here, as well as the streets that they had paraded on. Well, where _others_ had paraded on, and she and Wee Dingwall had embarrassed themselves.

She spread her arms out, allow herself to take in deep gulps of the cold fresh air. Feeling the wind whipping through her red mane and flipping against her coat, she could almost imagine herself flying.

"Hey! Are you committing _suicide_?"

Startled, Merida fortunately caught herself in time beforen the shock knocked her off the wall. The alarm turned to irritation when she peered over shoulder, where a small girl, with dirty black hair tied in a single ponytail, was leaning against the parapet walls. Her chins rested on her arms and her large brown eyes were watching Merida mockingly.

"Don't do that!" The redhead snapped at her, jumping back on the steady ground. "I'm almost died!"

"But _weren't_ you trying to die?" The girl prodded, pointing at her, then making a twirling gesture off the parapet

Merida was aghast. "I _wasn't_ trying to committing suicide!" she insisted.

The girl just snorted disbelievingly, then picked up a stone from one of the garden decorations. Shrugging, she remarked drily, "Well, it wouldn't have worked anyway."

She cast the stone out over the wall, but she didn't redraw her hand. A second later, there was a crackle electricity, and to Merida's surprise, the stone flew back up in the girl's hand.

"Neat, isn't it?" The girl grinned toothily at her. She tossed the stone at the girl by her side.

Catching it deftly, Merida glanced at it, then back over the parapet. "But how?"

"Force fields," the girl replied. "Make's sure we don't die prematurely. Gotta give those numbskulls a show to goggle at." She was small, but certainly opinionated, Merida noticed.

She tried to put together where she recognized this lass from, then the recap of the reaping flashed in her mind. "You're the kid from District 11, right?"

"Yep," the girl confirmed, absent-mindedly plucking a flower from a shrub, then wringing its stalk. "And you're girl from District 5 that dressed up like a banana."

Merida decided not to answer that.

"Hey, why's your hair so freakishly _fizzy_?" The girl cut in, pointing at Merida's huge clump. "It's like this massive cloud of red springs dangling from your head."

Merida had to take offence at that, retorting, "Well, why's yours so freakishly – black? And dirty!" She couldn't think of a good comeback. Irritated, she kicked the muttered, "_Jings Crivens, help ma boab_."

The girl scrunched up her face, peering at her face. "What on Earth does that even mean?"

"What?"

"The Jingle Craven whatever-"

"_Jings, Crivens, help ma boab_," Merida repeated. That question stumped her. "Erm, well, actually, um-"

"Hold up, frizzle-brains." The girl interrupted, narrowing her brows, "if you don't know what it means, then why are you still using it?

"Well, I-"

"It could be like some really offensive phrase," the girl rattled on, throwing the dead plant away. "Or," her voice dropped several decibels, "it could be a magic curse that turns your victims into zombie-werewolf thingamabob…"

Merida snatched it immediately. "Ah! So you're a zombie-werewolf-" she waved her hand uncertainly at her "-thingamabob now, eh?"

The little girl only smirked back, with a creepy smile spread across her face. Pretending to glance furtively around, she whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but my strategy is to eat everyone's brains in the arena." She made an exaggerated gobbling-and-crunching action.

"_Right_…" Merida nodded her, slow and definitely weirded out. This was a strange lass.

"Knew I could trust you!" The girl grinned toothily, raising a fist at Merida. "Top shelf!"

The redhead eyed the fist in suspicion, then scanned the girl's face for hints of mischief.

The District 11 tribute's cheer turned to annoyance. "You know what a fist-bump is, right?"

Insulted, Merida declared indignantly, "_Of course_ I know what's a fist-bump is!"

"Great! Now meet the gap," the girl egged her on, waggling her fist at Merida's face. "C'mon, don't leave me hangin'."

Reluctantly, Merida clenched her own fist, then placed it against the smaller girl's own, then dropped her arm swiftly. "Done," she almost spat.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" That girl could sound remarkably condescending for someone so small. "Well,-" she fit her little hands back into her sweatshirt pockets, "-see ya tomorrow, _Frizzles_!"

With a little salute, she disappeared from the gardens.

Merida only leaned back against the parapet, with the wind flying through her red coils, imagining the horrors that could be should this little imp ever meet the devils of her brothers.

* * *

**S/N:**

****Hope you liked Pitch's Intro (please tell me if you missed it. That would mean my writing needs work). And Vanellope's (And if you missed this, I really really suck). And did _anyone_ see 'President Lotso' coming? (In case y'all don't remember, Lotso from _Toy Story 3_?) Your thoughts would be appreciated.****

**And once again, I'll be mean and not reveal the identities of the other tributes! But I've introduced another one this chapter, so here's the scoreboard of what we (or rather, y'all) know for sure:**

**Distict 2: M: Hiccup F: Astrid**

**District 5: M: Wee Dingwall F:Merida**

**District 8: M: Greno (in chapter 4) F: Rapunzel**

**District 10: M: Jack Overland F: Toothiana**

**District 11: M: (Pretty obvious by now) F: Vanellope**

**District 12: M: Hans F: Elsa**

**That leaves a lot more room for guessing! Remember, post and including 2010 Dreamwork and Disney films.**

**Up Next: Training Time! (No quotes this time)**

* * *

**A/N: Another Early Update! I'm starting work tomorrow, so from this chapter on the updates will come slower. However, I've noticed that I seem to have a kind of 'review threshold'. Like a certain number of reviews are reached, my inclination to update increases…**

**Mailbox:**

**Morgan01: Glad you enjoyed it!**

**electricangel12: I'm glad you liked reading Astrid's backstory as much as I enjoyed writing it. From the Defenders of Berk series, it was mention she had a favourite uncle, but no mention of parents' still, so yeah… I really think she lost her parents in canon too. Your predictions for District 3 are very close…**

**DrunkenSage: Awww! Thanks! I don't think my writing's that great, but I do try to keep it as readable as possible. I would love to have more followers though. It's great to be able to share stories. Jack's eye colour is gonna stay brown for a lonnngggg time. His hair will experience dirt, soot and much more, so …I guess not.**

**Guest (Nov 14): I'm glad that this Hunger Games AU is to your liking. I read quite a few of them, and if there aren't the right tweaks it falls flat sometimes. 'President Snow's**

**Guest (Nov 15): I'm glad you're liking the story so far. I've planned most of the story already, mostly in my head, but some on paper. I hope I don't keep forgetting to inject the details though. Did I say Jack had powers? Hmm… Your predictions for tributes are interesting, and you've got some people right, though not necessarily in that particular district (But for 4 characters you hit the jackpot). But I should mention: District 9 is just going to be a blank space – they're just going to be a nameless boy and girl, because I need some extras (yep, I said it) and everytime I pin a name on someone, I feel like giving them a role the story, and … I go nuts.**

**Luvy Duvy: Thank you following the story! I hope my updates won't be to infrequent, but I do have a life outside this.**

**anastasia 1234: Thanks so much! I'll do my best to make this story good. I'm not certain that this story will be strictly Jelsa, but I can tell you that Jack and Elsa are going to have a deep connection to each other. And…that's it.**

**Review! Critque! Ask Questions!**


	7. Chapter 6: Making Friends

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 6: Making Friends

* * *

**Training Centre**

"This is it, ladies! The kitten whispers and the tickle fights stop _now_."

Hiccup had the uncanny suspicion that she was looking at him when she spat out 'ladies'. He felt pretty indignant about that. There was a lot of difference in being insulted as a 'wimp' and a 'lady' - Astrid would agree on that point.

"Five days from now, we'll placing you in the arena, and I can assure you,-" the head trainer narrowed her brows balefully at the tributes from her podium "-twenty-three of you will be _dead_ before the week's out."

Hiccup rolled his eyes. _Of all lovely ways to begin one's morning_. He wriggled awkwardly in his over-sized training shirt. His designer was living in denial, deliberately making everything a size larger, it seemed. He had been almost swimming in his costume throughout the parade. But Hiccup couldn't be that mad. The designer was probably so used to making large clothes, so he supposed she was still pretty underwhelmed by his size. Who wasn't?

"The training stations are categorized according to survival skills and combat skills, but I wouldn't overlook the former," the Head Trainer continued, her eyes piercing and probing everyone of them. "10% of you will die from starvation, 20% from dehydration."

Hiccup made did some mental math. Supposing he wasn't part of the usual half that died in the first bloodbath, he'd have the sixty percent chance of not being killed by dehydration. At the moment though, dehydration wasn't his biggest problem.

"Fights between tributes will not be tolerated, and if you feel the dying need to break some bones, our 'friendly trainers' will assist you with that." The Head trainer made some pointed glares at the Careers, who responded with innocuous expressions. Hiccup wasn't standing with them, because even though he didn't know where he should be, he did know where he _shouldn't_ be.

"You kids have got only three training days, and I'd advise you to use it wisely." She nodded to them for the last time. Hiccup couldn't help feel it was like a salute; like a _morituri te salutant_ salute - just the opposite.

With that said, the tributes were sent out to the stations. Hiccup noted that the Career Pack immediately went for combats, unsurprisingly. So he did the only sane thing any out-of-place geek could do.

Go for combats, of course.

* * *

_Go for combats, make a mess, leave_. That was Flynn's instructions.

She had argued that constructing herself as a weakling in the eyes of the Gamemakers wasn't going to be get her sponsors, but he had assured her over and over that he would settle the sponsors. She just needed to pick her allies.

But how was she going to get allies if she persisted in making herself look like a _wuss_?

At an weight-lifting station, she observed with horror at how the hulk of the District 11 boy had lifted a couple of dumbbells the way one would pick up cherrys, before smashing them into dummies standing several feet away. Not far from him, Rapunzel watched as the tall pair of siblings from District 7 practicing their use of close-range weaponry. One – the male – wore an eye-patch and he now he was locked in tight battle with a trainer. It was obvious enough though, that the bulky redhead was winning. The sister, who just barely looked like a girl at all in Rapunzel's opinion, was practicing in a simulation battlefield, wielding a foreboding pair of machetes. Rapunzel noted that her technique wasn't perfect, but her brute strength made up for it. They were just like the bulky, brutish hooligans that she had had nightmares about ever since she had started watching the Games.

Containing the trembling fright that shook her, she pressed on.

She finally arrived at the knife throwing station. To her relief, she found that darts were available on the rack. Grabbed a handful of them, she headed in front of the targets available. When she released her first dart, she was rather pleased that she managed to strike the upper-arm of the human-shaped target on the board.

Well, until she watched the boy from District 1 pick up five small throwing knives and with a flick of his wrist, drove them straight into the hearts of the targets. _All at once_.

Rapunzel must have let out a squeak of astonishment, because the District 1 boy was suddenly staring in her direction. His expression was blank at first, as he serenely observed her quaking self. He then scrutinized the dart-pierced board, before gazing at her again. His crimson-tinted pupils reeked with condescension and a little pity, and if Rapunzel were to describe, she would it the look a predator gave to its prey.

"Don't mind Shen. He's just a show-off. Prouder than a peacock, if you ask me."

Rapunzel spun to the source of the voice, and found that it belonged to a fellow tribute. She was tall, very much taller than herself, and the volumous black curls that cascaded down her shoulders seemed to emphasize that difference in size. Her skin was fair, but its pallor only brought out the hollowed-out appearance of her eyes. She smiled, and it was just as patronizing and demeaning as Shen had been, but Rapunzel noticed the lack of threat present in it.

Her eyes then caught sight of the number of the girl's shoulder, and they widened. This girl was from District 1 as well - a _career_. And she was talking to _her_.

The girl seemed to ignore her shock. "Shen thinks that throwing small, dwilly-willy shurikens makes him superior. But I doubt he can handle a real knife." As she spoke, she produced a dagger as long as her forearm, calmly tossing it up and catching it by the handle neatly each time. Facing the blonde, she asked, "What's your name, child?"

Rapunzel cleared her throat as she tried to answer while still mesmerized by the spinning dagger. "Rapu..Rapun…"

"Speak up, dear. I _do_ hate mumbling. It's so annoying. Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah.-" Though seemingly polite, Rapunzel couldn't deny that other girl's haughty manners were a bit off-putting.

Without warning, the career suddenly flung the dagger across the room, hitting the target straight on mark. Correction, _piercing completely through_ the target - such that all that was left in the human target's heart was a hole. The blonde could only gape at that.

"Now," the dark-haired said, beaming warmly at her, which somehow sent shivers down her spine, "what did you say your name was, dearie?"

"Rapunzel," she managed to croak out this time.

"Like the plant. How quaint," the girl crooned indulgently, which made Rapunzel feel horribly small all over again. She hung her head low, intending to go away, but the District 1 girl then burst into laughter, pulling the blonde's arm.

"Come, come, now. I was just teasing," she excused herself. "You don't need to get all hurt and sorrowful now, do you?" There was a hint of accusation in the last sentence.

The blonde girl only shook her head, tugging self-consciously on the long braid that fell behind her.

The girl gestured to herself with her beautifully manicured hands – a result of her upbringing in the District of luxury products, no doubt. "Now, my name is Gothel. And I think, Rapunzel," her eyes were gleaming bright, " that we're going to get along just fine."

* * *

"This is not working, Tooth."

Jack was lying down in the middle of simulation room, his sword about ten feet away from him, just out of reach. About ten seconds ago, when the programme had been still in motion, he had been devoured by a pack of virtual hungry wolves. It hadn't been all that pleasant.

"Let's try changing the weapon then." Jack wasn't completely sure why Tooth had been stuck with him this long. As far as he understood it, most tributes preferred not to communicate with each other, even those with previous ties - it saved the inconvenience of killing a friend later.

But even up to now, Tooth had largely ignored the norms and persisted in being friendly with him. It wasn't as if they shared mentors. It was possible that the amicability was a farce for her to double-cross him in the future, but he rather doubted that, given her sweet nature. A more likely answer was that she would rather have someone from her district to win, since this would mean that District 10 would gain extra rewards even if she didn't survive. But Jack was most inclined to believe that it was simply because Tooth was too strong a woman to let anything like the Games define her choices.

Unfortunately, that meant she didn't take his opinion much into consideration either.

Seconds later, she put him back his feet, stuffed a new weapon in his hands, and reset the program for the simulation battlefield. He sighed, running his hand through his brown hair, wondering what horrors she had programmed for him now.

The glass doors slid shut. Shaking his arms as he prepared himself, he was surprised to note that Tooth was in the room with him. "Wait. Why are you here?"

"New mission objective," she told him simply, as she raised a blindfold to her eyes, covering them completely. "Protect me."

Jack's jaw dropped as pathetic rushed in him like a flood. "_What!_"

"Make sure I don't die," the girl rephrased unhelpfully, as she patted the snug knot at the back of her head. "And I die if you die. Just saying."

Blinking laser lights flashing across the room informed him that the program. Jack could only grip the pole in his hand helplessly as he drew the blindfolded girl nearer to himself. "Why the staff?" he hissed, not sure if he should be mad at her. "And definitely, why the _blindfold_?"

"I thought the staff would remind you of a shepherd's crook," she explained matter-of-factly. Jack supposed that part made sense; every boy in District 10 probably had some experience in sheep herding - the Capitol had much use for wool in winter fashion, after all.

"The blindfold?" His eyes were darting warily back and fold.

"Oh, just to put my life completely in your hands," she replied cheerfully, just as the first wolf formed from the lasers, pouncing at the petite girl.

Fortunately, Jack had been paying attention, and spun the staff such that it struck the wolf in the stomach, throwing it off completely. Two more leapt up behind them both, and Jack grabbed Tooth, shoving her behind hisbody as he fended off the wolves.

The beasts that came attacking increased in speed and numbers over time, to such any extent that Jack had to keep dragging the girl around in circles to keeping the virtual teeth from biting her. She was perfectly oblivious to the happening, humming happily to herself while he desperately kept the jaws of the wolves away from them.

Much of the fight was a blur to him, but he clearly understood that many of the blows he delivered were definitely fatal. He had killed several animals before, especially wild predators that attacked the sheep, but he never had to kill so many so quickly before. He grimaced, but persevered. He would have time to reflect on it later.

Just when he managed to rid them of two more wolf attackers, a much taller figure rose from the yellow lasers, and to Jack's astonishment, it was a human figure – an archer, to be exact. Raising his bow at him, the archer fired. Snapping out his freeze in time, Jack spun his rod quickly, pleased that he managed to deflect the projectileafter all. But spinning the staff had forced him to move someway from his female companion, and now he noted that the archer now targeted her.

With the sudden rush of fear overwhelming him, Jack's mind barely registered what was happening when he had flung the rod from his hands, hitting the archers squaring the jaw, knocking the archer's skull against the room wall. The archer burst into laser fragments before those too dissipated.

Jack drew a sharp breath. He had struck a killing blow. On a human. A virtual human. But still…

The yellow laser lights flickered than disappeared. The room now announced his score, but Jack wasn't paying attention. He still stared at the staff lying on the ground innocently, as if it hadn't just smashed somebody's skull.

He heard Tooth telling him something, and that brought him back to the present. "What?"

"Eighteen out of twenty this time." She nodded at the glowing holographic scoreboard in front of them.

Jack's attention turned completely to his score now, overshadowing the strange disquiet he had felt earlier. "But…how?"

"You're a guardian, Jack."

He frowned at her, and shook his head. "Nope, not getting you at all."

She elaborated. "You thrive on protective instinct. Not violence, or even adrenaline. I've seen you fight off animals before, so I was wondering why you were doing so poorly."

"Ouch." Jack made a fake hurt expression.

"Then I realised, you only fought well when you were protecting something, or _someone_ – that's what brings out your best." Her smile turned into a wide grin. "Especially if it's a _girl_."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Jack demanded, while Tooth continued laughing, bearing a smirking expression. Shaking his head, he joined her, chuckling as they made the out of the simulation theatre-

-where they were stopped by the blonde Career from District 2.

"You." She pointed at Jack with her double-bladed axe.

Jack gulped, hoping that a trainer would quickly come by and stop this girl from slashing him in ribs, or slicing him in pieces, or both in that order.

But the girl did neither. "I'm here on behalf of the others to invite you join us for lunch."

The _others_ – she was referring to the Career pack. It suddenly struck him. They must have been observing his recent simulation run. It was cool that he was good, but he didn't know he was _that_ good.

Jack's throat went dry as he tried to answer, "I…"

"Yes?" the girl swung her axe around rather ominously.

"…would love that," Jack finished lamely, while he mentally cursed himself for not having guts to refuse.

"Good," the blonde girl beamed at him, and suddenly her whole transformed from terrifying into something akin to radiant beauty, but it fell away to a cold glare.

Jack's heart was heavy in the next few hours as he anticipated the undesired dining session.

* * *

Merida felt like tearing her hair out, but she didn't. If there was any part of her appearance she appreciated, it was her hair. Her unkempt curls were perhaps a bane to her mother's combing efforts, but to Merida, they were the symbol of her wild, free-loving nature.

At the moment though, it was very trying for her _not_ to yank the red coils from her scalp.

"_Oooooh_, 'lease that _arrow_ already," she growled at her dull-expressioned District mate, who was still trying to fit the arrow in his bow. She could have left him alone, to wander his way through the Training Centre. But he was so disconnected with reality, so lost in his own world, that Merida's conscience couldn't permit her to leave him alone. He was the son of her father's friend, and by extension, that sort of made him a family-friend, even if she barely knew him. Still, that meant that she had some obligations to ensure he'd at least _try _to fight for his life, come the Games.

Besides, he was her last connection to home.

She unconsciously tugged on the small pin she wore her collar. It was engraved with her family crest – a sword in front of four inter-locking circles. Her father had given it to her, telling her to wear it proudly. And she did, but pride was little comfort to the homesick heart.

She wished she could pick up the bow, but she promised herself she wouldn't reveal her abilities to the Careers. It would be her 'secret skill'. She pleased to observe that so far none of the Careers appeared particularly skilled with a bow, though those from District 1 were very good at knife-throwing.

Wee Dingwall was still taking forever to release that arrow, so she turned her attentions elsewhere. It was best that she distracted herself, if not she'd be bashing his head inwards and ending their District's chances of winning all together.

Her gaze eventually settled on the boy from District 6, whose pale face was upturned towards the ceiling. His countenance reminded Merida of a television screen by the way it flicked from visages of anger to maliciousness to frustration so quickly.

He called out in a saccharine-sweet voice, "Come down now, and give me back my mace." Then it suddenly became loud and furious. "Or I'll come up and strangled the life out of you!" Then he giggled in a manner that sent every fibre of her body shuddering.

"Nope. Not convinced," a familiar smug voice replied from the ceiling. Squinting hard, Merida realized that it was the small, dirty-haired girl she had met on the roof the day before. She was lying in the nets attached to the ceiling, holding a mace in her hands. "You're too afraid of heights."

"Now, now let's not be unreasonable." The District 6 shifted into a bubbly façade. "I _really_ like that mace, and you don't, so you should give it back to me."

"What?" The girl cocked her head at him, cupping a hand behind her ears. "Can't hear you, doofus. You've got so much trash coming out from your mouth it made my ears numb."

"I'm warning _you_!" The boy stuck his finger up threateningly, but the girl just cackled at that. She then noted Merida watching across the hall and shot the redhead girl a wink. Merida allowed herself to return a grin.

The District 6 boy was stomping around below the girl, hissing and cursing, occasionally letting out a few giggles every now and then. The District 11 tribute, getting bored of his tantrum, finally said, "Alright, you diaper-baby. Don't get yourself into a knot." A wicked grin spread across her chubby cheeks. Holding out the mace right above the boy's head, she said with gleaming eyes, "_Catch_."

The boy squealed, fleeing, while the girl guffawed heartily at his reaction, passing the mace from one hand to the other. Merida couldn't help chuckling to herself, earning a questioning glance from Wee Dingwall, who had managed to shoot a couple of arrows at the carpet floor.

The laughter fell from Merida. "Wha'cha gawkin' at, ye huddy?"

With an unchanged expression, Wee Dingwall resumed littering the floor with arrows, while Merida continued watching the antics of the scruffy little girl from District 11.

* * *

_Pain. Love it._

Hiccup winced as he uneasily tried to reset his own shoulder. During his 'adventures' around the combats training stations, he had been the victim of a very painful back throw. Of course, the boy from District 4 claimed it was an accident, THG he thought that Hiccup - skinny, underweight, in a _tribute_ uniform, for crying out loud,_ \- _was a trainer. Any idiot could see that the maniacal guy with scars just wanted to toss someone around, but the trainers just closed an eye to the matter. So now he was nursing a dislocated shoulder joint - not that he didn't get them in school all the time.

Eventually, with a 'pop', Hiccupsighed in relief as he felt his bones return to their place. Rolling his shoulders back a few times to check, he returned to the task at hand.

It was lunchtime now, and he knew that some tables down the Careers were seated together, as if showing off that they were unafraid to hang out with each other. He snorted. _Yeah, sure._

There was a huge spread of food available, but Hiccup wasn't that interested in eating as he was in sketching this contraption he had in his mind. After watching spending much of the morning in the combat section, he had observed many of the skilled tributes, including the Careers of course, while they trained. From his deliberations, he decided that, obviously, he would lose in hand-to-hand combat. He stood a chance in ranged combat, since he had steady hands, but he could barely pick up a crossbow. A bow was a possibility, but from what he had tested, he couldn't stretch most of them, so that posed a problem. He didn't have the strength the throw at a distance, so knife-throwing was out too. He needed something that would throw it for him, and that got his sketchpad out.

He was so absorbed in drafting and muttering to himself, that he didn't even notice that someone had taken a seat across him, and was now watching him.

"Takes too long to build," Hiccup murmured to himself, before he tore out the page. The person picked up the loose sheet and scanned it, then nodded in agreement before chucking it away.

"Too heavy," Hiccup mumbled, scrunching up the next sheet. The person had already caught a glance of it, and agreed to that as well.

This process repeated a couple of times, and throughout Hiccup stayed oblivious to the companion by his side, who was silently approving his reactions.

"Too much metal," he mused at that next sketch, then scrunching it up, ready to toss it aside.

But this time, the person spoke up. "No! This is _perfect_!"

"Wha-whoa!" Hiccup jumped back in shock when he finally realized that he had company. Doing that while seated was unwise, since it resulted in him tumbling backwards off the bench, flapping his arms like a disturbed chicken as he did.

"Whoa, are you okay?" The person asked, leaning over the table to check on him.

"Nothing that won't eventually go away," Hiccup groaned in reply. Rubbing the back of his head, he added in wryly, "Emphasis on '_eventually_'."

The person was a boy who appeared hardly older than himself, and was strangely also just as small and scrawny, as himself. Messy black spikes stuck out from his head and his face bore an awkward grin. From the tip of his sleeve, Hiccup noted the number '3'. That would explain his interest in the sketches, if nothing else.

The minute Hiccup was back on his seat, the boy got down to business. "Okay, you're right that this thingy- " he jabbed at the crumpled sheet that Hiccup had just almost cast away "- being unable to work without metal. But the poles can be substituted temporarily with hard woods, like Ironwood or Wamara. If they're available, that is. If you really don't want it to splinter, though, you need something stronger. You could get the arrows in the arena, 'coz they're completely reinforced with carbon-core-"

"-which is much lighter, and just as strong as metal," Hiccup finished, an toothy grin appearing on his own face. He stuck out a hand at the boy. "Hiccup."

"Hiro Hamada," the boy replied promptly, taking the hand firmly. "So, Hiccup, mind if I borrow the pen? I've got some ideas for upgrades."

* * *

**S/N: **

**Time to finally tell you guys who the tributes are! **

**Full List of Tributes**

**District 1: M: Shen from KungFu Panda 2 F: Gothel**

**District 2: M: Hiccup F: Astrid**

**District 3: M: Hiro F: Honey Lemon**

**District 4: M: Dagur F: Heather (Both are from the **_**Riders of Berk**_** series. For those you who didn't watch the show, don't worry. If there is need to, I'll give backgrounds on them when relevant)**

**District 5: M: Wee Dingwall F: Merida**

**District 6: M: Turbo from Wreck it Ralph F: Taffyta**

**District 7: The Stabbington Brothers from Tangled, with no-eye-patch as the genderbent female twin (If by some chance you are a huge fan of the Stabbington BROTHERS, sorry, but this isn't going to play a big role in the story)**

**District 8: M: Greno F: Rapunzel**

**District 9: Unnamed people that will stay unnamed**

**District 10: M: Jack F: Tooth**

**District 11: M: Ralph F: Vanellope**

**District 12: M: Hans F:Elsa**

**That's it folks!**

**Small Sgt. Calhoun cameo in the beginning. It may hold significance…or not.**

_**morituri te salutant – We who are about to die salute you.**_

**And that's the intros for both Gothel and Hiro! No Elsa today.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Work has really taken up a lot of my time, so I haven't managed to write finish this till today. I've actually written two full version of this chapter, one which is a much longer version of Jack's experience in the simuls, and Hiccup's meet with Hiro, but I discarded those because it felt too draggy.**

**Mailbox: **

**Meganqueen1: I have no idea how many chapters this is going to be, since I've never finished such a novel-ish story before. I'm aiming for 30 chapter for this story, but for the sequel (a sequel is likely, because of events in Mocking Jay), it'll be different.**

**Minty4ever: I'm glad this story stirs your interest. I hope the little bit of Hiccup here helps, but even if it doesn't, don't fret. Everyone of the Five (even some secondary characters) play an essential role in the story – Hiccup by virtue of his birthright ( as son to the mayor Panem's most despised district) is already interesting, and his attitude and talents would make it even more so. **

**I'm a stickler for canon ships, so it's likely this story would end up being Hiccstrid, but not necessarily Jelsa (since it's not canon), though as mentioned before, Romance will play a factor, but it's not always the main focus.**

**Queen Elsa Frost of Arendelle: Glad to see you using your account now! Please don't stop reading my story, but do get a life outside Fanfiction. It's an amazing world out there.**

**ElvisRules41: I'm actually not a THG fan, but I do like the themes and concepts it discuss, which is why I'm writing this. And I like this setting too.**

**Awsomaniatica: Thanks for your consistent reviews! I really enjoy them. Bunnymund is my favourite of the Guardians, actually, so I wanted to bring him in. I actually considered North as Jack's mentor, but I thought he'd be too nice to Jack. You got the twins right, so get yourself a virtual cookie! At this point, I'm wary of bringing in characters that have pre-2010 existences, so I'm not too sure if more the Toy Story cast, or even the Kungfu Panda cast would show up, as supporting roles or just cameos. I'm glad you thought the ice thing was smart – because I honestly came up with it only when I was 3/4s through that chapter.**

**AmyMilo: I'm glad you like Pitch's place in this story. I have to admit in this part he may not play such a large role in the central storyline, but in the sequel (which I'm likely to write, but no promises) he'll be extremely important. I'll be tweaking around with his character and his origins a bit, because it struck me that the movie Pitch was a bit of wimp sometimes.**

**That's all for now. Next update will hopefully be next week. Hopefully.**


	8. Chapter 7: Making Friends Part 2

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 7: Making Friends Part 2

* * *

**District 12 Living Quarters**

Ice. It haunted her.

Every time she caught sight of even a little frost on the window panes, she'd glanced frantically to her hands, get a mild reassurance from the sight of her gloves, then she'd calm down. But then, she'd catch sight of a stray mist appearingout of nowhere, and she would go into a panic attack again.

She had yet to speak to Pabbie about her...abilities, and as she far as she was concerned, she'd rather keep it that way. He'd obviously chosen not to give her away, but she didn't know how long he'd keep mum about it, or what he honestly thought about her.

Tonight the dining table only had herself, Pabbie and Olaf. Even though she was on better terms with her sister's boyfriend, she'd remained adamant in having separate trainings. Hans and his stylist – an unpleasant man by the name of Weselton - were dining in another room. Elsa was sympathetic with Hans on that point. She knew that the boy was constantly at odds with the fussy old man.

"So, Elsa, make any friends today?" The small white man asked her, as he merrily spread the butter onto his bread slices, then sprinkling little pieces of ham onto them, gurgling in delight as he did.

Elsa twisted her gloved fingers together. After the parade, she ensured that she was always wearing gloves – even convincing Olaf to incorporate them into her training suit altogether. If anyone asked, she was either cold, or unwilling touch other people's sweat. The latter usually worked in the training centre.

There was one time this morning she had nearly been called out, though. She had been at the fire-making station, following the instructions on the holographic screen, attempting to stoke a flame by digging the butt of one stick in the stem of another. However, no matter how many times she spun the stoking stick in her covered hands, there wasn't so much as a smolder.

"It'll never catch on," she had heard a voice come from behind. At first, she had thought it was a trainer, but upon glancing up, she had realized that the tall, lanky brown-haired boy was the good-looking one from District 10 – 'playing as the playboy', Hans had described.

"You need to do it faster, and move it up and down at the same time. Here." He had crouched himself down, near where she was. He had swiped the stick in from her hands, which would have made her frown had she not been too curious to see what he was doing. Ensuring that the wooden splint was place in the dented centre of the tinder wood, the boy had rubbed it rapidly in his hands, rolling his palms up and down as he did. Barely a second later, the base of the stick had begun smoking, making Elsa gasp in astonishment. The boy had blown gently on the smoke, and it had thickened.

"Only works in dry weather, though," he had admitted, but he had been more or less satisfied with his accomplishment. "In winter back home, we usually used tinder boxes. Whatever season it is, nights get cold on shepherd duty."

"Not much wood in my district," Elsa had answered him absently, her mind briefly drifting home. She could imagine Anna preparing her own breakfast – probably burning up her pancakes as usual – then getting dressed for school. By then, she would have noticed that was getting late and trip over feet while she hurried over to the door, where she would hold both coats while she waited for her elder sister to –

Elsa had forgotten; she was no longer in that picture.

"-coal-mining district. Forgot all about that," the boy had rattled on. He had said something else, which she hadn't caught, before she had found him holding the stick out to her.

He had nodded at her. "You try now."

Taking it, she had tried to copy his actions, but the fabric of her gloves kept catching onto the bark on the stick, preventing her from rolling it up and down, slowing her speed.

"You should remove the gloves." The boy had nodded at her hands. "Added friction helps your grip."

Elsa had stiffened when she heard that. Trying to cover her response up, she had replied, "I have a thing about-"

At that moment, she had realized the hygiene excuse wasn't going to work for a stick, so she gripped the first thing that came to mind.

"-dirt."

"Dirt?" The boy had seemed highly amused. "You do know that a majority of the arenas are designed in naturalistic environments – all which have a lot of dirt."

Right there and then, he had her stumped. Seeing that there was no way she could get out of it, she had reluctantly pulled both black gloves off. Placing them down near the table, with all her determination she could muster she had willed her hands not to freeze up as she drilled the wood into the wood.

"Yes! That's much better, it's just that – oh, let me help."

He had drawn up closer, leaning forward when he had put _his hands _over_ hers_.

Her reaction had been immediate. Snatching back her hands, she had glared at him. "Don't touch me!"

Her words must have been heard by everyone in the training centre, because from the corner of her eye, she had noted that some trainers had come forward, prepare to halt a possible scuffle.

The boy had backed away instantly, shocked. "Geez, it was just your hands. Which are, by the way, really _cold_-"

She had turned her back on him, shoving her gloves back on promptly.

"-I'm really sorry. I promise I won't even give you _eye contact_ if – hey, where're you going?"

She had gotten to her feet, walking away from the station. Fortunately he hadn't given chase.

"Name's Jack!" Had been the last thing she had heard from him, followed by a forlorn, "By the way."

She had tried to justify that she had yelled at him because she didn't trust him – he was her competitor in the Games, after all. But she knew the truth, of course. She knew he was genuinely friendly, and she wasn't afraid of this gangly boy, who, though a half-a-head taller than her, was hardly a threat to someone like her. No, she was afraid of the ice, the growing power within herself that she fought to control everyday. And with that fear, she drove away everyone who ever tried to reach out to her. Anna. Hans. The boy from District 10

"No, Olaf. No friends," she had answered finally, picking up another scone with her gloved hands.

* * *

**District 8 Living Quarters**

"I've got good news," Flynn told her when they both sat down in at the dining table. Avoxes lay out glass and steel trays of exotic foods before them, and retreating to the shadows.

"Thanks," Rapunzel said automatically, then mentally slapped herself. Flynn had told her that one never spoke to an avox unless to give an order. Anything else would usually result in the dumb servants getting punished. She sincerely hoped that her slip-up went unnoticed. Stealthily, she slid a piece of orange to the brown chameleon sitting on the table, which he gobbled it up appreciatively. Then, she answered her mentor, "Oh, I've got good news too, but you first."

"Okay." He set down his knife, glancing heavenward for a moment, as if thinking how to phrase his news. Deciding to throw dignity in the wind, he informed her with unbridled enthusiasm, "You've got sponsors! Yay!"

"Really?" Rapunzel's eyes brightened with incredulous surprise. Her jaw hung out as she gasped in amazement. "Wow!"

"I know, right?" Flynn was just as excited as she was. If it wasn't that both of them had their hands full with food, Rapunzel was sure they would have been hopping up and down in a victory dance right there and then.

"You _are_ good at negotiating," Rapunzel complimented him, her eyes shining at him. "Thank you."

"Usually, I'd take the credit, but these guys came looking for me instead," Flynn admitted, slightly abashed Rapunzel's ready praise. "I'll show you who."

Standing up, he went over to the nearby television screen and switched on the holographic projector. Putting on the chariot parade that had happened two days ago, he skipped through most of the programme, pausing at the president's speech. "There." He pointed at a pair sitting on the President's balcony.

Rising from her seat and brushing her dress of crumbs, Rapunzel joined him in front of the projector. Though from the Capitol, the couple Flynn pointed at dressed rather simply, without the bright, frizzled colors that too many off the Capitol citizens were fond of. The man had heavy brown-beard that matched his deep blue overcoat, sporting a golden chain around his neck - an elegant sun-shaped amulet. His wife's brunette tuff was drawn back back, braided carefully on the sides. She wore a beautiful purple gown that made her look not only wise, but elegant as well. Around her neck, she wore a pendant with a sun emblem that much like her husband's.

A thought struck Rapunzel. "If they're sitting on the President's balcony, that means they're pretty powerful people, aren't they?"

"Pretty powerful?" Flynn scoffed at that. "More like the one of the most influential people in the Capitol!" He flailed his arms wildly to exaggerate the size of it. "I present,-" with a flourish bow "-the Minister Corona and his wife."

Rapunzel peered closely at the two. Minister Corona was a grim-looking man, with the lines on his face betraying the many hardships he had experienced in life - though what hardships an official in the Capitol could undergo, Rapunzel didn't know. In contrast, Mrs. Corona appeared to be a gentle-seeming soul, but her smile was visibly marked with a humble sorrow that could never be erased.

She couldn't help but feel that she would like to know more about these people. "My training scores aren't even out yet, so why did they pick me?"

"No idea, actually," Flynn confessed, shrugging. "Maybe they liked your hair, I don't know. But they've been asking for you ever since the parade. "

He headed back to his seat, and so did his mentee. "Anyway, the important thing is that Coronas are filthy rich, so if all negotiations go smooth tomorrow - which they will - you've got nothing to worry about in the arena. Besides getting mangled by wild beasts and slaughtered by other kids, I mean."

When they both sat down again, Rapunzel slipped a grape to her pet, who promptly turned purple as he swallowed it, as he asked her, "So, what's your news?"

"Well," she helped herself to another slice of pie, "I've got someone who wants to be my ally."

"Uh-huh," Flynn was momentarily distracted by an avox who brought him a letter on a tray.

Rapunzel continued, "She's really good at knife-throwing and climbing. I think her sword-fighting's pretty swell too. And she's nice to me." She hesitated a bit there. "Well, kind'a nice."

"So, who's she?" Her mentor inquired, but his eyes were on the letter in his hand, whilst the other raised a coffee cup to his lips.

"Gothel. District 1."

There was a loud 'clink' when Flynn dropped the ceramic cup onto its saucer, cracking both. An avox came forward immediately to clean it up, while Flynn demanded of the blonde, "A Career?"

"Yes?" Rapunzel replied, perplexed by her mentor's reaction.

"You do know that Careers hunt in packs, right?"

"So I'll probably get to join them. Isn't that a good thing?"

"No!" Flynn looked at her as if she was mad. Noting how she shrunk back at that, he softened his tone, "Look, did you notice the use of the word 'hunt'? The Careers do proactive killing. You wan'na be involved in that?"

"I'm not that weak, you know," she flared, though inwardly she had her qualms.

Flynn shook his head, an oddly serious visage creeping onto his face. "This isn't about strength, Blondie. It's about scars - scars in your head - and _trust me_, they last long."

Rapunzel's voice sounded slightly bitter, and perhaps she did really feel it. "I thought you were helping me to win."

"Nobody wins, Punzie," he explained sadly. "Only some survive." He did it unconsciously, but Rapunzel noticed his fists were clenched till his knuckles turned white. "I'm not helping you put through this alliance. I suggest you find someone else."

Rapunzel wiped her hands on a napkin, rose to her feet and stomped off. Flynn just watched her go, then continued fiddling with the letter when he noticed a pair of huge reptilian eyes staring at him from the table.

The chameleon still freaked him out, but Flynn refused to show it. "What?"

The creature gave him a pointed glare.

"Well, it's for her own good," he replied heatedly, folding up the letter and tucking it in a pocket.

The chameleon rolled his eyes and shook his head. _Not that part_, he seemed to say.

"Then what?"

The chameleon deadpanned, _Stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about_.

"Well, I don't!" Flynn declared stubbornly, "And you're not even _talking_!" He sighed, rubbing his temple furiously. "Look at me," he said to no one in particular, "I'm talking to a frog."

Pascal made an indignant squeak.

"_Chameleon._"

Pascal made an approving croon.

Flynn raised his head only to note that the creature's eyes were still on himself. He groaned, leaning on his elbows as he roughly pushed back his brown hair. Defeated, he held out his palm for the reptile. "C'mon."

Pascal hopped on, and the man raised his arm to so that he could climb onto his shoulder. Sighing again, Flynn headed off to find his blonde mentee.

* * *

**District 10 Living Quarters**

"So, any allies for you, Toothiana?" He handed the butter to his mentee.

She received it gladly. "Thank you, North. Well, I'd like Jack please, if he'd have me."

"Well, how 'bout you, Jack?" The boisterous white beard man turned to him.

"Tooth's fine too," the boy replied, but he was staring dejectedly at the beef stew before him. It wasn't the food that was bothering him, though.

"You two sure are a creative bunch, aren't ya?" The other mentor remarked, dripping with sarcasm, as he filled his bowl with carrots.

Seeing Jack's slumped shoulders and his despondent expression, Tooth answered pityingly for him, "The girl Jack wanted to ask didn't give him a chance."

"You are making it sound like he was asking her on a date," her mentor commented, chuckling jollily.

There was an awkward silence as everyone registered what Nicholas St. North had just said.

Bunnymund was the first to break it. "Mate," he asked cautiously, "do you - _ahem_," he fumbled uneasily, " – _like_ this girl? As in, _like_ like?"

Jack went red, but he tried to appear aghast instead. "What? No!"

"-because the last time I saw '_love in the battlefield_' in the Games – well, let's say it just didn't end pretty -"

"-and both parties died," North added, not really noticing how unconstructive his addition was. "It was tragic."

"I don't like _her_! I don't like anyone!"

"Are you sure?" his mentor questioned him firmly, locking his black eyes on the brown-haired boy.

"Absolutely!" Jack was quick to insist, though he could barely suppress his embarrassment.

His claims were enough to appease the mentors, but Tooth just raised an eyebrow at him. Sometimes he hated how remarkably perceptive she was to everything, especially himself. He dug into the stew the way one dig a shovel into a particularly annoying patch of dirt.

"Anyway,-" Bunnymund changed the topic to break the uncomfortable atmosphere, "-I've been approached by dozens of sponsors for you, Jack. Naturally, most of them are female-"

North burst out into hearty guffaws at this point, pounding the table as he did, and even Tooth giggled at Jack's expense. The boy just scowled, shoving a spoon of stew in his mouth as the diners chortle merrily away, swallowing it roughly.

"-and all of them are older than you," finished his mentor, when the two paused for a breath, but his words just set them off again. Bunnymund even spared a smirk at him.

Jack exhaled heavily. _Definitely worse than high school._ "Whatever. So long as they get me stuff."

"Quite a number of mentors have been approaching me too. Sorry, Tooth," the tattooed man added, noting the guilty expression on his fellow victor's face.

Tooth just shrugged, giving her mentor a comforting pat. "It's okay. I don't really mind."

"So, who?" Jack asked, as he pushed away the stew and starting on a plate of jam tarts.

"1, 2 and 4."

Jack groaned again, muttering to the ceiling "Why me?" pathetically again.

Bunnymund was annoyed. "Mate, you know Careers wanting you is a _good_ thing?"

"Well, _I_ don't want them," the boy growled obstinately in return. He remembered watching them train. The boy from District 4 decapitating a dummy, while cackling like a maniac with every limp he severed. The District 1 boy whipping his long-sword in rapid circles, slicing up the mannequins like they were nothing more than sheets of paper. The District 2 girl yelling and throwing her axe from target to target, without a pause or a breath. All had the unblinking willingness to end a life. But Jack could never bring himself to think that way.

They said that the Games could change people rapidly. They said that Bunnymund had been like a terrified little rabbit when they place him in, but he HAD emerged as the hardened, battle-scarred warrior that the Capitol so admired and respected today. But Jack didn't want to change. He promised his sister _he_ would come home - as _himself_, not some cold, desentisized person that wore his face.

"You know, you may not have a choice, mate," his mentor reminded him, sounding perhaps harsher than he intended.

Bitterly, the boy shoved his plate away, appetite lost. Bunnymund was right, of course. How fate loved the irony; that the only way he could be reunited with Emma was to become the monster she feared.

* * *

**District 2 Living Quarters**

Hiccup was puzzled. And he told himself he was puzzled, because 'hurt' was such a heavy word.

He was watching a recap of the 73rd Hunger games, but all the blood and gore did little comfort to nurse his emotional sores.

He had truly found a kindred spirit in Hiro Hamada of District 3. Okay, the guy was crazyand impulsive, and half the time he was up to mischief, but Hiro's company was a blessing. The boy had confided to him that he was considered a robotics prodigy of sorts in his hometown, and having spent a day with him, Hiccup believed it completely. The boy had shared with him about force-fields, electromagnetic pulse (EMP) generators, even about the micro-cameras in that Capitol kept in some places of the city. Heck! He had even showed Hiccup how he would hack through it. Perhaps he had been a little behind in the robotics jargon, but as far as Hiccup had been concerned, Hiro had been someone who finally spoke his language.

Until this afternoon. During this lunch break, Hiro had introduced him to his District mate, a geeky-looking blonde who wore a pair of glasses.

"My real name's Aiko, but everyone calls me Honey Lemon," she shook his hand, with an excited giggle.

"Mine's Hiccup," he had told her.

Her oculars had widened behind the lens, and her eyes had darted at once to his sleeve. He had known she was looking for his District number. However, his oversized shirt had ensured that the number was hidden in the folds completely.

She had whispered something to Hiro at that point, which made the boy content expression into one of horror. He stared at Hiccup for a long moment, such that the elder boy wondered if he had something on his face.

"But I thought it was just a _nickname_," he had hissed back at her. Honey Lemon then had said something else, and realization had dawned in Hiro's eyes.

Glancing at his blonde district mate, then back at Hiccup, Hiro had just started shaking his head in disbelief, before running out the room altogether.

"Hiro!" The blonde had called behind him. Turning to Hiccup, she had said, "I'm really sorry, Hiccup. You seem like a nice guy, but Hiro…he…I…"-" she had just sighed "-we can't be friends anymore. Goodbye."

She had left to follow Hiro, leaving him alone on the lunch table with his sketches. Just like the everyday he had back home.

Hiccup guessed Hiro didn't know he had been hanging out with a District 2 tribute all this while, but he couldn't understand why the boy had reacted so badly. Were the Career district tributes so intimidating?

Who was kidding? Careers were notorious for using their added strength and stamina in the games. Essentially to the weaker districts, they were the bullies, and it was not surprise that few wanted to associate with them. But what ticked Hiccup off the most was that he _wasn't_ a Career – he had dropped out of training too early, and c'mon, just look at him! Even the Careers didn't consider him a Career! But Hiro, who had spent an entire training day with him, lumped him automatically with the fearsome, athletic brutes when he had learnt that fatal number.

It was frustrating; being a reject in the Career group _and_ the non-Career group.

He heard light-steps come up behind him. A fresh, wet fragrance that filled the room told him that she'd just used the bath, and reminded him he should probably do that before he went to bed. Not that he did anything physically strenuously today.

"You should really consider joining us, you know," she was saying. Hiccup forced himself to keep staring front. It wasn't as if she was naked or anything, but if he even so much as glanced at her with her flowing blonde hair down, his brain may very well switch off and he might make some decision he'd eventually regret.

Yes, it had happened too many times during his short-lived academy days. He still wore the scars.

"No thanks," he answered shortly, hoping that she would give up her endeavor. He began sketching some designs, while occasionally glancing up at the television.

"It's tradition, Hiccup. Careers always work together."

And there that word was again.

"Didn't finish the academy, so I'm not counted," he replied, giving up on the drawings. He decided to channel all his attentions to the television screen, even flipping up the volume to cover up the girl's nagging.

She wouldn't give in though, and he supposed that he didn't really expect her to. She was Astrid Hofferson. "Look, you can't sell yourselves as the fighter, but you can be the team strategist. I know you'd do well in that. We need a fight tactician."

Hiccup snorted, but softly so she wouldn't hear. Keeping his eyes glued to the screen, he watched the District 3 tribute in the screen anxiously gripping onto his District 2 ally's wrist, preventing her from plunging down the cliff as gravity dictated she would. There were growls of the mutations far away, and the District 3 boy kept glancing over his shoulder, even as he strained to heave the girl up.

Though Hiccup tried to block her out, he heard her sigh (well, it was the most wonderful sigh in the world - to him at least. He blamed his hormones). "C'mon, it'd be an embarrassing if the District 2 tribute was missing from the Career Pack! Especially for you! Can you imagine what the people would think?"

He ignored her and continued watching. The District 3 tribute hadmanaged to drag his ally up to the cliff after all, but the minute he turned his back, the girl suddenly whipped out a saber and stuck it through his ribs. When she removed it, blood splattered everywhere. The boy gasped, staring down at the gap in his chest, while the girl smirked cruelly. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, while the girl laughed sadistically, dropping the bloodied blade beside him.

"If nothing else, do it for your father. For goodness sake, do you want to die during the Bloodbath? How - what would people think of the _Mayor's son_ dying like that?"

Abruptly, the District 2 tribute's victory was cut short when a metal disc flew past the screen, hitting her square in the head. She collapsed, a dulled expression in her eyes. A cannon sounded, marking her death.

"Hiccup Haddock, are you hearing a word I say?"

The District 3 girl had appeared in the scene, dashing over her bleeding District mate. Propping his head on up on her knee, she blubbered something incoherent as she tried to soothe him, tears streaking down her face. His breaths grew wheezy and short as he tried to whisper something in her ear. His shaking left hand removed a band from his arm – his token, probably – and the camera did a close-up as he pressed it into the sobbing girl's palm.

Then the cannon sounded, and the girl's bawling echoed throughout the arena.

"U…unlike what you may think, I don't actually want you dead. Yet. Maybe."

There was the announcement of the victor's name, but she was weeping to loudly for it to be heard clearly. Before the credits rolled in, there was a brief refresher of the names of tributes; names in red for the fallen ones. Hiccup's eyes went to the District 3 row to get the girl's name, but instead he caught the boy's. He almost fell off from the sofa in his shock.

"_Hamada_."

Astrid was confused. "What?"

"Hamada," Hiccup repeated, more to himself than anyone else. At once everything fell into place.

He couldn't really blame Hiro for his prejudice against the Peacekeeper district. It was after all a District 2 tribute that murdered his brother.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Avox (plural Avoxes) – Mentioned THG books, they are 'traitors' (usually minor criminals) to the capitol who have their tongues cut out and their force to live as servants. They are treated cruelly. It is unlikely they will play a large role, so this is FYI.**

**It's pretty obvious who the Minister Corona and his wife are.**

**Honey Lemon saying her real name is a reference to her Marvel comic identity **_**Aiko Miyazaki**_**, which the film doesn't mention. **

**The District 3 tributes of the previous Games are pretty obvious too. And there won't be any Big Hero 6 spoilers (at least for this part. The sequel if it happens will have them) – I'd planned their roles based on trailers alone, way before I saw the film. **

**Up Next: Judgment and Training Scores. What scores do you think our five would get?**

* * *

**A/N: **

**I got a bit of inspiration after writing the previous chapter, and then this appeared! **

**Mailbox:**

**Meganqueen1: Thanks! As shown in this chapter Tooth, she does know about Jack's little crush. But Jack's supposed 'protectiveness over girls' actually refers to one significant other female in his life, who is **_**much**_** shorter…**

**Queen Elsa Frost of Arendelle: I'm glad you do have a life. Sometimes I forget to have one. Thanks for favouriting! It makes me so happy that you like this enough for that!**

**Awsomaniatica: Thank you! I'm still very afraid when I handle Merida and Jack's POV , because I don't know them as well as the others. Bringing in good characters then dumping them aside is something I hate, so that's why I've chosen a cast from a limited number of movies, and why I left District 9's tributes a blank (I hate killing people pointlessly – oops, did I say that out loud?). However, whoever I bring in, I do have an AU backstory, but it may not have a place in the storyline. But I did think about it. **

**ElvisRules41: Katniss can be annoying, but she can be sympathized with. It has to be admitted why half the time she is deranged is because of what the games did to her. Hope you liked this chapter!**

**FrozenOncer: Thanks! The biggest issue I've had with many Big 4/6 Fics is the lack of acknowledgement of other great films. But however, I placed the limit of post 2010 because if not there would be way too many films to cover. **

**That's all for now. My next chapter is hopefully this week before I go off on vacation. If not, you guys have to wait till mid-december for my next update.**

**Review! Critique! Ask Questions!**


	9. Chapter 8: Trial and Judgment

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 8: Trial and Judgment

* * *

**Training Centre**

'_Stop fidgeting.'_

'_I'm not fidgeting.'_

'_Yes, you are. Look at your hands.'_

'_Well, I'm looking at my hands and - fine, fine. Yes! I'm fidgeting.'_

'_Then stop it, you moron!'_

'_If you think this is so easy, why don't you do it?'_

'_You are me, you idiot!'_

'_Oh wait… I'm talking to myself again aren't I?'_

Hiccup frowned. Why did he have a habit of doing this?

'_Because you're paranoid.'_

'_Actually, that makes no sense. Paranoid is described as having delusions and projections of personal conflict. Oh wait…'_

The announcement system read his name and he reluctantly stood up. The District 4 boy stuck out his foot right in his walking path, and Hiccup found himself almost stumbling over it while others in the waiting area snigger at him. He huffed, rubbing the shoulder while glaring at the scarred boy for a moment, then joined followed the Peacekeepers to the judging room.

Today was the last day of training, and that meant the Gamemakers now granted each tribute a private audience with themselves and the tribute attempted to impress them with their skills. The Gamemakers then gave them points based on how well they thought the tribute would fare in the Games. Hiccup knew that by now it was probably too late to grab sponsors, but if he could knock the Gamemakers' off their feet somehow with his 'special' skills, they might drop an item or two in the Games for his benefit. After all, the more interesting the skill, the more entertaining the programme.

The judging room was very much the same as the Training Centre; sure it was much smaller in size, but the contents were much the same; paints, training dummy, assorted sharp, extremely dangerous weapons that he could never use, and so forth.

He shuffled unwillingly to the Gamemakers' loft. Most of them were helping themselves to a spread of buffet, but when they saw him, they all stopped in curiosity. Gamemakers usually thought highly of the Career Districts, and since he was such a huge contrast to the stereotypes, he obviously garnered attention - though not in a flattering way.

"Hiccup Haddock, District 2," the chilling voice that read out his name almost made him jump out of his skin. Searching the swarm of Gamemakers, he found a pale-skinned gentleman garbed entirely in black robes standing before him. Scrutinising the boy with his dark yellow eyes, he added scornfully, " Son of Stoick the Vast?"

Hiccup groaned internally. Why did these people have to know his father? He supposed it couldn't be helped. His father was not only the mayor of the richest district of Panem, he was also a prominent and respected victor. His title 'the Vast' paid tribute to his gigantic figure and monstrous strength. Gamemakers, being themselves, certainly would know he was when they were staring at that great man's son – rephrase, _squinting_ at that great man's _very small_ son.

"That's me." It was more of a confession than an actual statement.

The Head Gamemaker – Hiccup vaguely remembered his name was something-Black – only raised a brow at him. "You have ten minutes to show your chosen skill." With that spoken, the man dropped back into a black chair near the back of the loft, which looked vaguely like a throne of sorts.

Hiccup watched as the numbers on the huge wall clock started running. And then he did too.

He flew to the survivals racks, grabbing ropes, twine, metal wire, wooden sticks, and so forth. The only thing he took from the weapons rack was a small dagger. He had considered taking the arrows, as Hiro had suggested three days ago, but he decided to pass on it instead – in the real games, he wouldn't be able to get near any of those. Each time he took an item, he threw it on the floor, then went to get something else. The Gamemakers, who had been chatting merrily amongst themselves, paused to watch him in interest.

With everything he needed on the ground, Hiccup got to his knees and started to build the contraption based on the blueprints he had memorized the night before. He supposed he could do this on a table, but in the Games, he wouldn't find a table. Actually, finding a table in the Cornucopia would be an interesting concept to postulate about, but he was busy at the moment.

He bound the necessary poles together, then moved to hammering his hand-crafted wooden nails in the holes he had drilled manually with his knife. It wasn't easy, but Hiccup was fortunate that his father had been very fond of wood-craving, and the last few days he had been practicing desperately at the wood-cutting section as if his life depended on it.

Oh wait. It did depend on it. Heh.

When he finished his work, only seven minutes were over. He exhaled in relief, before lifting his wooden contraption to his shoulder. Thanks to the lack of metal, it was pretty light-weight and the design was such that he could rest most of the weight on his shoulder, freeing up his arms to do actual aiming. However, it was still fairly large, so he had to spend some time balancing it, even hoping from foot to foot to get it right. In this time, some Gamemakers got bored, and went back to stuffing their face. Hiccup felt a bit jarred at that, but he removed himself from the insecurity.

"So," he cheerfully squeaked to the uninterested judges, "I made this hand-held catapult." He tried to gesture at the object, then realized if he did, the whole contraption would tip over.

After an awkward moment of gaping contemplation, he continued, "What I do is choose an object to load onto it – which in this case are bolas that I have created with a pair of dense log pieces – anyway," he hurried on, noting that some of the Gamemakers were yawning, "all I have to do is aim at a chosen object,"- he spun around to one of the dummy figures, "fire!" He squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He tugged on it again, muttering to himself, "C'mon!"

He glanced behind as he toggled the trigger buttons, noting dismally that some Gamemakers were looking annoyed, while more went to join the feasting.

Then suddenly, there was a 'click' and a 'whoosh' as the bolas came flying into the air. Unfortunately, because he had turned his whole body at that moment, the bolas went flying straight to the Gamemakers' loft, whipped around a bunch of Gamemakers in ropes. There was screams as several of the Capitol citizen tumbled over each other, some even landing in the food.

Well, looks like he really did knock them off their feet.

Hiccup winced. "Sorry," he called out, uneasily. His eyes flitted briefly to the Head Gamemaker, who was still rather removed from the chaos ensued. His expression was cold, but interested.

Not wanting to face the angry judges, Hiccup allowed his invention to clatter to floor as he ran out of the room.

The minute he was out, his mind started berating himself.

'_Now, Hiccup, where did you go wrong?'_

'_I showed up?'_

_'Besides the obvious.'_

'_I talked to the judges?' _He smacked his forehead. He couldn't believe he actually did that – no one ever talked to the judges.

'_And that.'_

'_I shot them?' _

'_And that.'_

His paced slowed as he finally grasped his biggest mistake of all. He groaned, dragging his palm down his face, then allowed both his hands grab at his neckas he chokingly replied to himself, '_I dismissed myself. Without asking for permission.'_

'_Clever boy.'_ The dry voice in his head mocked him. '_Now, let's hope that that when they bury you, they'll give you a small enough coffin so that your bones won't rattle when they carry it, eh?'_

'_Go and die.'_

'_Well, since I am you, that would happen soon enough.'_

Hiccup told himself to shut up after that.

* * *

Merida was really irritated. They were carousing, drinking and pigging their eyes out while she struggled to build an impression. Her blood was already boiling when she snatched the bow of the rack. Larks' alive! Her life depended on them putting a friggin' bow in the arena, but no, she wasn't interesting enough to watch.

The bow. Her left hand curled loving around the grip between the steel limbs, and while her right pulled on the string, allowing herself to feel the tension and make the necessary estimates. She then picked up an arrow, running her finger through the feathers. She chose a target, then set the projectile in place. Drawing herself up straight, she held her breath as she drew the arrow back, just till it brushed against her cheek. At that instant, the world became still, and all she could see what the black circle that marked the heart of the cardboard figure. Just as she exhaled, she let go.

The arrow flew like a bolt of lightning straight across the room, piercing its victim's centre.

With the energy and excitement bubbling in her, she couldn't stop. Grabbing a handful of arrows, she released them all, smiling broadly as she heard the satisfactory 'twack!' each time they hit their mark.

However, her joy faded when she spun back to the loft. The Gamemakers hadn't noticed what she had just done. Apparently, the stupid buffet was so much more absorbing that striking ten successive perfect marks.

She inhaled, her eyes focused on the happy little crowd. They seemed to be gathering around a roast pig, complete with stuffing and even an apple in its dead jaw. Someone was heartily sharpening the knives, while others were giddily blabbering to each other. Her lips curled into a frown of disgust. The only one away from the feasting was the Head Gamemaker. His yellow eyes bore into her, daring her to be worthy of his attention.

Merida felt her fury evaporate into cool determination. Removing an arrow from the rack, she fit it into the bow. Drawing it back, her eyes guided her arms before she fired. Her whipped through the room, plunging itself through the apple, sticking it against the wall.

The room quaked with silence, as all the Gamemakers now turned to her. She made a quick scan of their faces; shock, anxiety, incredulity, outrage, and…admiration. The last emotion seemed strange on the countenance of the pale Head Gamemaker.

She was certain one of them would tell her off soon if she do something now, so she drew herself up straight, raising her chin to better project her voice, the way her mother taught her. "I'm Merida of Dunbroch. I never miss. Don't forget that."

Spinning abruptly on her heel, she strode out of the hall, confident that none of them would.

* * *

Flynn had run through the game plan with her, but for the first time since she had thrown him off the train, she decided to disregard it.

"You have ten minutes."

Rapunzel had entered the waiting room with her hair down – literally, she dragged all 70 feet of unbraided cord through the halls and stacked in a neat pile while waiting. Many tributes gave her questioning looks, but eventually, as Flynn had said, they stopped after a while because they got bored. Flynn had also told her to go straight to abseiling wall, climb up it, then leave. She didn't need the Gamemakers' approval; her 'weapon' was technically part of herself, so any provision on their part would be useless to her. She didn't need more sponsors; Flynn had already sealed the deal with Coronas. In a matter of fact, Flynn wanted her to hide abilities, if anything at all. That was what he had told her yesterday night, when he came to do 'sort-of-a-apology'.

She felt that he didn't understand. She needed to know this for herself.

So for now, she strode through the judging hall over to the simulation battlefield, with a trail of gold following her head. Setting up the program, she paused to choose a weapon before entering – just in case. She settled a small metal baton, slinging it by her side as she slid into the glass doors.

Her surroundings whirred, and the virtual opponents surrounded her. She slowly scanned around her, waiting for the first sign of threat. Her hands she kept dangling by her waist, but noticeably she kept them close to her hair.

The first blow was attempted by an attacker wielding an axe – an allusion to the District 2 girl, she realized - and she avoided this blow by whipping a cord of hair at her when she was ten feet away, allowing her hair to wrap the girl's axe handle, whipping it from her hands and casting it aside. The attacker disappeared.

Another assailant bearing a long sword charged at her, but again, her thick locks coiled around sword and swordsman, and she flung them both away, as far from herself as possible.

Two attackers came forward, both at the same time. One bore a sword, another machetes – allusions to the twins, undoubtedly. She caught the sword-bearer's waist with a cord of hair, then swung him forcefully at his twin. Both assailants dissipated into yellow lights.

An archer appeared on scene, but just as the arrow got loaded, Rapunzel's hair twined around the upper limb of the bow, yanking it up, allowing the arrow to shoot the roof instead. She then tugged the bow out of the archer's hand. To her relief, this was sufficient to defeat the archer.

Two more warriors came at her with staffs in their hand, spinning them and smacking her. Once she was hit in the jaw, and suddenly she tasted blood in mouth. But instead she grit her teeth with determination. Both arms casting out new cords of hair, the golden locks eventually tangled up with the spinning staffs and her two attackers were suddenly weaponless. They too disappeared.

Suddenly, something fast shot past her head, missing it by inches, and she spun around, ready to take on whoever came her way. But then she recognized the weapon style too well.

Daggers – long daggers – came flying past her head, and only her speed allowed her to avoid them. The attacker had the advantage though; the knives were much too small for her to catch in time, and the attacker's hand were moving to fast for her catch it with her hair. She resorted to wrapping her hair around the attackers waist.

However, the attackers was too quick, and her knife-wielding hands just when to the golden cord, grabbing it, and slicing it off.

Rapunzel gasped as her golden hair slid from the attacker's waist to the ground . The virtual assailant hadn't really damaged it, but imagining it was bad enough to shake her.

Rapunzel had never had many things to call her own in her life. Everything in the orphanage had to be shared, and time and again, herself and other girls' were reminded that they were merely borrowing these items, and they had to return favors by doing seam work. True, she had Pascal, but she had never considered him a possession, but a friend. Having been abandoned at the doorsteps of the home when she was but an infant, she had no family, no name, no past to call her own. The only thing that defined her, that made her who she was, was her hair.

And this computer programmed dagger-wielding girl had dared to cut it.

Her brows narrowing, she charged forward, her hair flying behind her like a world-wind. The attacker still threw daggers, but she somehow dodged them all, letting nothing stop her from her wave of fury. When she was but five feet away, she released a cord of hair to wrap around the attacker's arm and dagger. The dagger was still pointing dangerously at her precious golden threads and her hair was wrapped too tight for her to rip the dagger away altogether. The attacker was struggling too, trying to raise her other arm to attack.

"Please don't," she found herself saying, as she launched the next cord at that girl's hand, but the girl managed to dodge that attack, throwing the knife at her with the free arm. Rapunzel felt the virtual blade sent the sensation of a graze to the side of her head, and she was acutely aware that meant more hair was cut now. Her lips pursed together as she grabbed a new cord of hair, casting it at the assailant.

The assailant was moving too fast though, and she couldn't grab hold of the free arm at all, finding instead a steady stream of knives flying her way.

"Please stop!" she yelled at the virtual person, but she knew that the programme wouldn't listen. She felt more simulated jabs and cuts as more of the daggers started hitting their target.

Seeing that she was crumbling, the attacker raised her arm higher, and twisting the hair around her wrapped hand, dragging Rapunzel closer to herself. A wave of panic swept over the girl as the attacker brought her closer and closer. Closing her arms, she decided to try one move trick.

Whipping the cords of her hair hard and fast at the girl, Rapunzel wrapped her hair around the yellow girl, neutralizing her altogether with her hands in capable of movement. But what Rapunzel didn't understand was why the virtual attacker was still struggling in her hair. Then she realized, a golden cord wrapped tight at the attacker's neck, restricting her breathing…

"No!" she screamed, rushing forward, but the attacker suddenly, stopped moving, then it dissolved, and her golden hair felt harmless to the ground.

She panted, her eyes unblinking she tried to comprehend what she just did.

She didn't just kill a person. She _strangled_ her – it, whatever.

Rapunzel felt bile rising up her throat, and she covered her mouth to hide her quivering lips.

She heard a slow clap behind her, but she couldn't look up. Then - "Your time is up. You are free to go."

She stumbled out off the judging hall, herself whirling with emotion, while the stream of gold followed her head.

She wanted to know if she could do it, and now, she knew.

* * *

**District 10 Living Quarters**

"What are the scores so far?" he asked her when he slid into the arm, licking dripping ice-cream from his cone as he did. The judging sessions today had been the rather black spot of today, and he was glad it was finally over. The scores were coming out of television now, and to be honest, he wasn't looking forward to watching it.

"The guy and girl from District 1 have gotten ten and nine respectively," Tooth told him, leaning back while she played with her necklace – her token, which was a tooth attached to a silver chain.

Jack sucked another mouthful of ice-cream as he watched the announcer bring up the scores for District 2. While he tried to keep his association with them a limit, he had a nagging desire to keep tabs on the Careers.

As he expected, the axe-wielding girl from the Peacekeeping District scored a ten out of twelve. What he didn't, was that the small boy from District 2 - the one that he never saw with the Careers – nabbed a nine, just one point less than his muscular counterpart. He gave a low whistle of amusement. He couldn't imagine what the boy could do, but one could never tell with Career Districts.

The tributes in District 3 both obtained decent scores – seven for both. The District 4 girl had a rather low score of six, but the boy received a nine, which was usual for a Career.

The biggest surprise was District 5 – well, not the male tribute, who received a dismal four, but the female, who snagged an eleven! Jack's eye widened as he tried to recall the number of eleven scorers he had seen over the years, but he couldn't.

"The poor girl," he heard Toothiana sigh.

He raised a brow at her in surprise. "Why's that?"

Toothiana explain, "With such a high score and not being a Career, they've essentially painted a target on her back." She returned her gaze to the television screen, where the green-skinned presenter was still reading off the list, her expression dark. "Out of jealously, they'd take out the most powerful player first."

Jack could only nod, dumbfounded at the Tooth's bleak analysis. Taking a bite out of the biscuit cone, he suddenly felt much better about his anticipated score.

These were strange games; with most tributes averaging around six, unlike the usual score of five in other games. With his ice-cream finished, Jack requested the nearby Avox to bring more and proceeded to stuff himself with a new tub of choco-mint. By Tooth's count, the only ones that stood out so far were by the boy of District 6 and the long-haired girl of District 8, who both earned a nine.

District 10 was coming up now, and their mentors had joined them in the living room. North was visibly grim, his back hunched over while his large elbows rested on his knees. Bunnymund was considerably nervous, tapping his foot constantly and occasionally shooting glances at his brunette mentee. Having finished the tub pre-maturely, Jack hugged the empty, sticky cylinder, bracing himself for the news.

Tooth's score appeared first; a startling _nine_.

North hollered in glorious victory, thumping his mentee's back joyfully, causing the girl to cringe upon contact. Even Bunnymund gave her a thumbs-up. Jack sent her congratulatory grin, but he couldn't hide his astonishment. Tooth was such a sweet and gentle girl that it hardly seemed possible that she could impress a bunch of violence-loving Gamemakers. Could it be that there was a killer behind that kindly face? One thing for sure, he had certainly underestimated her.

Then his score came on, and the liveliness died.

"A _four_?" Bunnymund gawked, his eyes bulging out his sockets. The usually burly, fierce man looked like he was going to faint.

Tooth's frantic eyes searched him for answers. "Jack… I don't understand."

North made a string of curses so rapid that they sounded like a different tongue all together, while his own mentor was muttering his own version under his breath.

"Guys, chill, it's no big deal," the browned-haired boy tried to calm the distressed team.

Bunnymund must have noticed the lack of shock in the boy, because he switched back to his fearsome self in milliseconds. Snarling like a tiger, he demanded, "Boy, what did you do in there?"

"Calm down, Bunny." He drew back when his mentor growled unappreciatingly at the nickname. Gazing at the questions expression of the gang surrounding him, he sighed before starting to explain. "I did the simulation. The same one that I did with Tooth on the first training day."

"But you did well in that one," Tooth responded, not comprehending.

"I…" he bit his lips as he contemplated on how to phrase his answer. "I did _one_ thing different."

"Well, mate, pray enlighten us," his mentor inquired between clenched teeth. The man looked ready to tear his grey hair out, or tear in his mentee's throat.

Jack stiffened, before replying, "I didn't kill the virtual archer, so the archer killed me."

Collective groans resounded around the living room. North just stared at him pityingly, as if wondering what kind of idiot he could be. Tooth cocked her head to one side, as if struggling to understand him. Only Bunnymund's reaction was of any entertainment; Jack watched with humorous amusement that the tattooed mentor now raised his hands to the air, beseeching 'why me?' to the heavens. The brown-haired boy chortled, coughing to cover it up; it appeared he wasn't the only one who experienced frustrations in their interactions.

He rose to his feet, handing the ice-cream tub to the Avox before leaving the trio in the living room.

"Crikey, what would the sponsors think?" He heard his mentor groan behind him.

"Bah! Don't you worry about them sponsors, Bunny," North replied in attempts to comfort. "They still like his pretty face."

Jack shivered. It made it sound as if 'they' wanted cut off his face and put it in a jar of preservatives or something.

His mentor snapped, "Don't call me Bunny," and by then the rest of the conversation was out of his hearing range.

When he arrived to his room, he slammed the door shut. Climbing onto his bed, he lay down, though he wasn't really that tired. Staring at that ceiling, he grinned to himself. Hopefully, when the Careers saw his scores, they would stop offering alliances. Maybe they'll put down his little show on the first training day as a fluke, then leave him alone. Maybe he could try again, and maybe make an alliance with _her_ -

He then cursed himself for not staying for the rest of the scores, but even then, he was too comfortable here to move. Still, he wondered what score she got.

Then a thought hit him. Would she want an ally with such a low score? He sincerely hoped that hers wasn't too high either.

* * *

**District 12 Living Quarters**

Two.

She had deserved it, she supposed, but that didn't make it any less humiliating.

There was a knock on the door. "Elsa? I know you're in there."

The same words, but the speaker was entirely different.

Like before, she didn't answer, and like before, the speaker entered without permission.

She was glad he left the lights out– she couldn't hide the frost from him. Taking a seat on the ground, but still keeping a distance, he offered a bowl in the dark. "Chocolate?"

"No thanks," she hoarsely replied, but after a moment, she took handful of the brown stuff anyway. Still reserved as ever, she popped a piece into her mouth, sucking and chewing, then swallowing, before taking another. She was distressed, but still ladylike not to stuff her face the way Anna would.

They sat there together in the dark silence, eating chocolate.

"Did you turn on the heating?" Hans asked softly, as if ashamed of breaking the quiet. "Because it's freezing in here."

"Nope," Elsa answered, too tired to worry if he suspected anything. The ice beneath her feet was growing surely, but still slowly. She helped herself to another piece of chocolate. From the stream of light that shone from the door gap, she noticed that he wrapped himself more tightly in the green poncho that he wore over his shoulders.

"What your score?" she asked dully, trying to drown her insecurity into the sweet brown sugariness.

"Eight, which is apparently pretty average during these games," he replied, digging his palms under the large shawl.

She bit off another piece. She could imagine Anna watching her jealously, while declaring knowingly that she was going to get fat with all that stress eating. She wondered what redheaded sister though her own score. Attempting to distract herself from her depressing thoughts, she inquired of him, "What did you do? During the judging, I mean."

"Did sword-fighting a simulation. Didn't die, but didn't win either," he answered. Glancing over at her, he asked, "You?"

She froze. Not literally, but it might as well been. The painful memory of this afternoon came running back through her head, and a stray tear ran down her cheek.

Hans must have noticed how terse she was, because he had added gently, "You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to-"

"It's okay." Perhaps it wasn't wise to confide in a potential competitor, but Elsa felt an aching need to tell in someone, someone close. If you could tell things to your sister, it couldn't be that much different to tell her boyfriend, right? She forced herself to take deep breath before she told him, "I didn't do anything."

"What do you mean?" She could hear his confusion.

"I just sat there, staring at them, just frightened out my wits," the words were gushing out like river, even though she bit her tongue. "I was afraid that if I did anything, I'd just end up panicking and -"

She heard a familiar crack, and peered at her feet. Her circle of ice had grown considerably larger, and was getting dangerously close to Hans. She opted to bury her face her arms, hoping Hans would dismiss her unfinished sentence.

"It happens even to the best of us," his voice was soothing and comforting. "And honestly, getting a 'two' for not doing anything? That's actually really good."

She noted that his hand reached out to her and instinctively to she recoiled. His hand stopped mid-air, before dropping back to his side.

She felt a pang of guilt, and at that point of time, she couldn't hold it in as she usually did.

"Sorry," she added, then bit her lip. That was an Anna move she just pulled.

She saw the outline of Hans shrug. "It's fine. I have twelve older brothers, and all of them demand personal space all the time, which is really hard to do in a small house -"

"Wait," she cut him off incredulously, "_twelve_?"

"We have a baker's dozen at home." He tried to sound cheery, but Elsa sensed the underlying resentment.

"Wow." She hooked a loose strand behind her ear, trying to overcome the tension. "Anna never told me that." The truth, of course, was that she never spoke to Anna about Hans at all, if she could help it.

"Well, it isn't a pretty story to tell," Hans remarked wryly, with a bitter laugh. Elsa could almost see the scowl in the darkness. "They pretty much ignored me for most of my life." There was pause before he continued. "None of them even came to say goodbye. Before getting on the trains, you know. Anna was my only visitor."

Elsa was startled. She turned to face the redheaded boy by her side, to find that he was already staring in her direction.

"You're very lucky, you know," he told her, and she detected a wistful note to his words. "To have a family that loves you. Anna talks a lot about you."

"She does?" There was another surprise.

"She adores you, and I can completely understand that." Hans threw another one of his comforting smiles. In a graver voice, he said, "She really wants you home."

Elsa felt a renewed turmoil bubbling up her, as the storm within her soul came a-brewing once more. "Well, I ruined whatever rep I had built on opening night today," she replied, turning away. It was wasted, especially since the crowds seemed to like her so much.

"I'll think of something," Hans promised. Elsa frowned at him skeptically, but as usual, he seemed sincere. But even if he was, it didn't mean anything. There was nothing that Hans could do to give her a better training score. There was nothing he could do to bring her home.

He took from her sigh that she was exhausted, so he bade her goodnight. However, before he left, he removed the poncho from his shoulder, and draped it over her. "Keep warm, Elsa."

Elsa didn't know it, but she was tired from all the insecurity and worry, so she fell asleep in that corner, with the green shawl as her blanket, her fingers wrapped around the crocus token.

* * *

**S/N:**

**I don't know if Hiccup would really talk to himself like that, but it was so much fun to write, I just did it anyway.**

**I didn't like this chapter that much, so it wasn't so fun to write, except maybe Hiccup's and Elsa's POV, because those ones came out more smoothly. I'm really looking forward to interviews actually. Soo…Who do you think should be the 'Caesar Flickerman' of this universe? I'm have some ideas, but I don't like them that much. Give your thoughts!**

**Up next: Interviews prep! (no, not interviews yet) And new POVs!**

**"_The Tales of Flynnigan Rider…"_**

**"_Five? Only Five! They promised at least twelve!"_**

**I'm looking forward to writing this chapter actually. I've been planning some of this long long ago.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**I've officially changed this fic to T instead for violence. The language will still be largely K+ though.**

**Thanks for the wonderful reviews people! Especially those of you who have been following regularly.**

**By the way, I've never really explained this, but S/Ns are meant for people who are more interested in story content, while A/N meant for people interested in admin matters (i.e. when is the next update) etc. So people who just what to read the story stuff can skip A/Ns.**

**I have just realized how pointless the above paragraph is to people who just skip these all together…Oh well.**

**Mailbox:**

**Meganqueen1: Don't sweat about it. At least you worked out that it meant something.**

**Guest: Yes, the hunger games are scary, but if it eases your worries, see the Author's note of the first chapter, and maybe you won't feel that awful.**

**NaomilovesJelsa: Ah, another Jelsa fan. As mentioned in the previous A/Ns, the shippings are largely canon stuff, Hiccup/Astrid and Eugene/Rapunzel. Jelsa is likely though not confirmed, but I can confirm that they will have a strong connection throughout the whole thing.**  
**But no promises, just in case I decide to make this a Helsa fic (Now I'll wait for you to jump a cliff, then I'll tell your lifeless body "I was kidding! Well, maybe." - sorry, that was dramatic)**

**DauntlessDemigod: Nice name, by the way. I'm glad you've been liking the story, and hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Sharp of you to notice the parallels of Hiccup/Astrid with the original THG, but along the way (of this story), more parallels will be popping up.**

**Awsomaniatica: Flynn is smart, but I would say that it is more than logic that drives how he treats Rapunzel, but then…I know something you don't (or maybe you know it, and I just kid myself), but Rapunzel went to experiment herself and got burnt. Hiccup and Hiro before have egnormous experiences with pain, but very different kinds of pain, which is why they deal with them differently, but yes. Feel bad for them, but don't worry. They'll get over it.**

**ElvisRules41: I'm glad you thought it was a plot twist, 'coz I didn't see it that way (but I'm the author, so I know all… go and see Big Hero 6, or just when it's convenient. It's a good film, with dark themes, but good.**

**I will hopefully update once more before leaving for vacation, but no promises.**

**Review! Critque! Ask Questions!**


	10. Chapter 9: Secrets, TV and Broken Tables

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 9: Secrets, TV and Broken Tables

* * *

"Are you a fool, Pitch?"

The Head Gamemaker leaned back in his ebony marble chair, his hands resting against his chest and his fingers pressed against one another to form a diamond shape. It was a gesture he commonly adopted every time he engaged in conversation with the President, especially when the latter irritated him.

"With all due respect, Mr. President, the girl deserved that score. She was a perfect shot."

"Yes." The old president glared at him through the projector. "A perfect shot at your heads."

"She never meant to kill. Not yet, anyway," Pitch mused the last part quietly to himself.

"You know well what's happening in District 5, Pitch. You reward such behavior then-"

"-then nothing, sir," Pitch interrupted, quite deliberately contemptuous. "Neither the girl nor the Gamemakers can disclose the happenings. There is nothing the rebels can from it." Had he performed something as such in public, there would be no option for Lotso but to have him executed at once. However, in private quarters, Pitch was well aware that his actual worth more than compensated for his lack of respect towards his Command-in-Chief.

The president narrowed his brows, but Pitch could see that he knew that the Gamemaker was right. "Well, as far as you're concerned, Pitch, there had better not be any more favors for impulsive girls - or clumsy boys."

The holographic projector flickered off as the President's face disappeared from the walls. Pitch gazed down at the papers he had before himself, gathering them up and sliding them into their respective files; Haddock, and Dunbroch.

There was a rap on the door, and he said, "Enter."

An avox entered, bearing a tray of documents, and he held it out to the Head Gamemaker.

"Thank you," Pitch murmured as he removed the papers, "but is there anything else?"

The avox peered cautiously out of the door, before shutting it carefully behind. Turning to Pitch, he made some gestures with his hands.

The Gamemaker nodded to show he understood. "Excellent." He noted the disturbed countenance of the golden-haired avox. "Don't worry, you git, you won't get punished for this. I have no interest in torturing someone who can hardly scream. Now," he waved at the door, "get out."

The avox took a deep bow before leaving, leaving Pitch alone with the paperwork.

Flitting his hand from both new files, he eventually settled on the 'Arendelle' file first. Slitting open the envelope, he nodded as he processed the text. Yes, the District 12 girl was a splitting image of her late mother - that's how he had recognized her - and yet carried the regal mannerism of her father. Interestingly, her health report mirrored neither that of her parents; her body temperature has always been consistently lower than the healthy average, yet she appeared well. Another curious point was that her habits of wearing gloves seemed to stem from some childhood illness plaguing her, - or he wondered, some childhood trauma.

He quickly lost his interest at the end of the file, so he proceeded to next girl. As he had noticed earlier, it was curious that the District 8 girl had no family name. Every child of every district have always been carefully documented, as such was essential for the reapings, but Rapunzel's file was surprisingly thin, even for an orphan. A few school reports revealed that her name had always been single-worded. The only interesting piece in the whole accursed file was that her medical reports always kept track of her hair length.

At the back of the health book, there was a small card clipped to it, which Pitch carefully removed. The doctor's small handwriting was difficult to decipher, but the Head Gamemaker could read it well enough. Then something that had long ago hidden at the back of his head resurfaced.

He swore fervidly. In his rage, he picked up his marble desk and flung it against the wall. Shrieking curses at the top of his lungs, he growled in frustration as his mind taunted him of what he already knew.

The door creaked open and the sand-haired avox peered through, his usually passive face expressing surprise at the outraged Head Gamemaker and the cracked table.

The pale-man collected himself, resuming the calm demeanor he usually bore. "Clear this mess, and straighten out the files," he ordered the mute servant. The younger man immediately went for the debris, expressionless as he swept up the broken shards and stones.

Pitch straightened his coat, his face as terrible as thunder. "Subordinates," he snarled bitingly, "can't trust them to do anything."

He marched out of his office, determined to right this. But while Pitch Black was a powerful man, there were well many things that were out of his control.

* * *

**The Lucky Cat Bar**

Her birth name was Leiko, but everyone called her Gogo Tomago. Or just Gogo, when she was amongst friends.

First was because her primary sponsor, Fred, had promoted her as such during and after the Games. Secondly, after she was crowned the 73rd Victor of the Hunger Games, her adopted 'talent' – a pointless official occupation or hobbie that apparently every victor had to have - was racing. It could be on skates, or a bike, or a car; she was only seventeen at that time, but she already earned her notoriety as the fast-loving adrenaline junkie of the technological district.

She had also the reputation of taking herself rather seriously, not talking much, and being especially harsh on members of the opposite sex.

That was why the gentleman – in her vocabulary, the _sad cad _– standing by her right was very close to be pummeled with the glass base of the soda in her hand, or if she was merciless, pummeled by the sharpness of her tongue.

"Hey, that violet streak's comin' on real good. Really fits your eye colour," he was saying to her, leaning back on the bar table, giving her what was supposed to be a dashing grin.

She slurped noisily through the straw, completely unamused.

The brown-haired idiot before her seemed uneasy by her bored reaction, but he brushed it off, remarking, "You know, they call me fast-" he gestured arrogantly at himself "-and you love fast, so you and I should-"

"-grab some fast-food fast-idiously together?" She interrupted coolly, returning to sucking the soda from the straw, crossing her legs while balancing herself on the barstool. She watched on boredly, unchanged as confidence ebbed away from the moron.

He sighed, rolling his hair back, muttering to himself. "Hey," he told her now, the false come-hither manner turning serious, "I'm just trying to make a connection here, but you're not helping."

In reply to that, she slammed her empty glass on to the marble bar table, causing everyone in the bar to turn and stare at both of them. The older guy was now feeling increasing uncomfortable with her manners, goggling at her as she calmly removed an aluminum packet from her waist pocket, unpeeling a fresh slice of bubblegum and popping into her mouth.

"Rider, right?" She said between chewing teeth, her garbled words echoing in the quiet joint.

"Yep," he admitted nervously, recoiling as if afraid of some imminent attack – which was not unreasonable, considering Gogo's reputation.

She went on chewing ominously, every crunch and splat sending shivers down the man's spine, piercing him with her black eyes. Finally, she said, "One, you're too under-qualified – academically, at least. Two, you're too fickle. So," she shook her head, "no."

With that, the other customers of the bar lost their interest in the matter, while Gogo blew herself a bubble through the gum. Rider was really ill at ease, but finally he gave up. Retrieving a thin slip of paper from his coat vest pocket, he slid it to her defeatedly. "My number, if you ever change your mind."

Gogo narrowed her eyes to slit at him, but she still took the paper. Doing a two-finger salute at her, the man finally left.

With that, her bubble burst, and she sucked the gum back, chewing all over again while reading the slip cautiously.

* * *

**District 12 Living Quarter**

"_Don't let them in, don't let them see, don't let them_\- oh, hello Pabbie."

The venerable grey-headed elder stood met her at the office table. There, he made himself comfortable in the fur-covered armchair across the blonde girl.

"I supposed you're here to help me with the interviews tomorrow, aren't you?" she asked, unconsciously twisting her gloved hands together. She settled herself down in an armchair as well.

"That is what I'm supposed to do now, but I don't think that's what's important now." He gazed at her with kindly but worried eyes. "Elsa, I think we should talk about you."

"M-me?" She stuttered, and she felt like kicking herself. Once again, another Anna move. She never stuttered, never apologized. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to inhale slowly. She supposed this conversation would have to come eventually.

She peered down at the gloves in her hands. "I've been trying to keep it under wraps. You know I have," – Pabbie nodded encouragingly –"but it's been getting harder." She pressed her hands against herself, bending over, as if trying to shield herself from the world, or maybe, the world _from herself_.

Pabbie shook his head. "You're abilities are an issue, Elsa, but they are nowhere is an important as something else."

She tilted her head in askance. "I don't understand…"

Pabbie gazed straight in her eyes. "Fear, Elsa."

"I'm not afraid," she declared, even sounding haughty, but her darting eyes betrayed her.

He obviously didn't believe her words. "Everyone is afraid, Elsa. The only difference is what you fear, and more importantly, what you do about it." He rose from his seat, going straight to hers. She shifted back uneasily, her eyes downcast.

"Elsa, you fear for your sister, don't you?" The question raised her head.

Her throat was dry, but she could answer, "At the reapings, yes. And,"- she turned shamefully away again, - "every other part of my life."

"And all for the noblest of intentions," he assured her, as his firm hands rested soothingly on her shoulder. She seemed like she would flinch, but Pabbie went on. "A little fear is good, Elsa – it remind us of what's important to us, and gives us strength to do fight for it. But never, Elsa," one of his hands gestured down her gloved ones, "let fear stop you from doing what you need to do."

"Even if it means I hurt someone?" She asked before she could stop herself, then bit her lip. This was the Hunger Games – not hurting someone was taboo here.

"Especially if it means hurting someone, Elsa," he told her firmly. "Remember, there are many ways to hurt people."

His words brought her to painful memories of long ago. It was just a week after the 'accident'. Anna's concussion was great enough that she didn't remember anything, and Pabbie's 'treatment' ensured that she never would. The white lock against the redhead remained an accusing reminder of her mistakes, and she had, as much as possible, reduced her contact with her sister. It was subtle things; like offering to go shop for groceries just when Anna asked her out to play, or refusing to go parties under the guise of doing homework. Her sister had never questioned her actions – well, not that often, at least – but Elsa could never forget the crushed expression on the usually freckled, optimistic face, as Elsa shut yet another door behind her.

The girl swallowed. "I'll try, Pabbie."

"Good, now," he returned to his seat. "We need to decide on your angle for the interview…"

* * *

**District 11 Living Quarters**

"S-U-G-A-R,  
jump into your racing car!  
It's a Sugar Rush!"  
_Clap, clap!_  
"Sugar Rush!"  
_Clap, clap!__  
_"S-U-G-A-R,  
jump into your racing car!  
It's a Sugar Rush!"  
_Clap, clap!_  
"Sugar Rush!"

The monster-sized boy had to plug his ears stop the terrible noise she called singing from bursting his ear-drum. "Kid, what is your problem!" He demanded over her terrible 'vocal expressions'.

"I wan'na play, and you're hoggin' the TV!"

"There are millions of TVs in this place!" Ralph cried, gesturing vaguely at behind them.

"Well, I want this one!" Vanellope insisted, lying in the seat next to him upside down, such that her legs were sticking up.

"Well, _I'm_ tryin' to watch TV here," he said, pushing her off the sofa. "So go away."

"Hey!"

Both their mentors weren't the responsible type, so today, Vanellope and himself were very much on their own in preparing for the interviews tomorrow night. He knew himself well enough that he wasn't the best stage person, so he was watching past records of interviews, trying to get a sense of how to portray himself as grim and intimidating. The pre-teen lolling around on the carpet was not helping.

Staring up from the ground, she drawled, "Why are you watching all this boring stuff?"

"Rep building. I need to pick an angle to promote myself," he explained irritably, fast-forwarding through the show, then dropping the remote by his side.

"That's easy." The girl rolled over, got up and purposely hopped in front of the television screen. "Now, say after me." She pointed at herself.

Ralph huffed in annoyance, glancing up and around her to try to watch the show

"Hey! I have the remote!" The girl raised the device threateningly overhead.

"How-" Ralph searched around him, before slumping back in defeat.

"Now, say after me," the girl tapped herself proudly. She spread her legs apart, holding two bent arms under-shoulder, before saying in a deep voice, "I'm gon'na wreck-it!"

Ralph raised his eyebrow. "Wreck what?"

Vanellope frowned. "Don't ask so many question. Taglines aren't suppose to mean anything."

"Oh, yeah?" The boy glared, folding his arms. "What's your tagline?"

"_Sweet mother of monkey milk!_ You don't know my tagline? I'm so misunderstood. " The girl made a melodramatic sigh, causing Ralph to pull a face of disgust. "Now, listen' 'ere, Stinkbrain." Her tone suddenly became business-like. "Do you wan'na be as popular as that 'ice girl' from District 12 or not?"

"What that got to do with you?" He grumbled, dejectedly glancing down at his overalls. He wasn't the sociable type, nor was he particularly good with people. He was going to mess up the interviews, whether he liked it or not.

"You want it, or not?" The girl repeated exasperatedly. She obviously didn't believe the same things he did.

"Yes! I want it!" Ralph yelled exasperatedly at the irritating little imp

The girl shouted back, "Good!"

"Fine!"

"Now keep that volume!"

He barked, "Then what!"

"Say after me!" She shrieked, doing the 'mighty-gorilla' pose again. "I'm gon'na wreck it!"

He got to his feet and copied her. "I'm gon'na wreck it!"

"Louder! " Vanellope screamed. "Can't hear you!"

"_I'm gon'na wreck it!_" He growled as menacing as he could, even taking on a fearsome expression.

"Still not getting it!" The girl cried. "Can't you wrangle out those vocal cords in the fat-folds of your neck, you numbskull!"

"I'M GONNA WRECK IT!" He bellowed so loud that even the rafters shook. With a terrifying cry, he brought his hands down, crashing into the wooden coffee table, splitting it into splinters on the ground.

The small girl stood gaping at him for several seconds, her jaw hanging wide. Fearful that he had scared her into shock, he asked, concerned, "Hey, you okay?"

She still didn't move, except for her arms, which twitched a little. He waved his hand in front of her eyes, but they didn't even blink.

As suddenly as she had stopped, Vanellope bounced on her feet, cheering and clapping. "That was totally awesome! You should have seen yourself. You were fierce, bold," her voice dropped into a fascinated whisper, "and _absolutely terrifying_. Ralph, my man, you'll have the Capitol grub shaking in their boot – hey, what's you're staring at me like that?"

He didn't reply, but something in his face must have given him away, because the next second her face fell, her waving arms dropping.

"It happened, didn't it?"

He nodded, not knowing what to say.

Vanellope snorted, tucking her hands into a pocket, kicking away the wood piece near her feet. "How many times now?"

Ralph answered with much reluctance. "This would be the third since we left home." He hesitated, before saying, "Kid, do you wan'na see a doctor-"

"No!" That response was quick enough. Unconsciously, she drew up her green hoodie, over her head. "I'll be fine."

Ralph sighed. He supposed she was back to normal, but for how long? That couldn't be told. But he guessed that even a doctor couldn't help her at this point. They were all being driven to their graves, anyway.

"Now that we've got your stupid angle, can we play some games? I'm bored." She gave a yawn and rubbed her eyes, but the bigger boy could tell she was just covering up for the tear in her eye. "I found this thingy on the TV."

"Sure," he conceded willingly. Leaping over the broken the table, Vanellope grabbed the remote as she and Ralph set themselves down on the sofa.

"Great!" She was jumping and up down again, back to her bubbly, crazy self, and for that, Ralph smiled gladly. "It's this car racing game with _a lot _of saccharine."

As she hit the buttons, the program that Ralph was watching disappeared from the screen, replaced by a pink screen, sparkling cursive words and a hugely aggravating Japanese theme song.

Ralph groaned, as he covered his ears once again.

* * *

**District 8 Living Quarters**

When he arrived at the eighth floor, Flynn burst out the elevator, almost crying out it relief. The sun was already setting in the horizon, and outside had been terrifyingly cold. Still, that didn't stop him for sweating buckets. He wisely decided that he would add District 3's most recent victor on the 'No-Flirt' list, after all. She could frighten a corpse back to life, he was certain.

Most of the lights on the floor had been switched off for some time, so he wondered if everyone had already turned in. He had left for the bar rather late, since he could only go after running through the interview content and presentation with Rapunzel. The girl had rather been distracted lately, and Flynn had suspected more than not that it had something to do with the judging the previous day. Her score was high – _too_ high actually, but considering that she could still be mad at him for not pushing through the alliance, he had decided not to pry.

Passing through the dining hall, he found a lone avox still waiting at the table. Seeing him, the avox picked up a plate of donuts and handed it to him.

Glancing around to ensure that no one was nearby, he muttered to her, "Thank you."

The avox only remained impassively silent as ever, head bowed low.

He could hear a television playing some rooms away, so he headed there, with the plate tucked held by one hand, and with the other he began his teeth digging into the hot dough.

At the lounge, he recognized the blonde head resting against the sofa, with her seventy feet of hair loosely draped over other chairs, tables and rugs. On one of the armrest, his keen eyes caught the shape of a purple chameleon, curled up asleep. The girl herself was leaning back, relaxed against the velvet covers. The coffee cups on the table proved that she had tried to keep awake , but her eyes were shut and shallow breath showed that she had failed.

Flynn couldn't help but smile and shake his head. She was a stubborn little woman.

He supposed that he could have just left her sleeping there – the couch wasn't that uncomfortable – but it came to him automatically to drop the donuts, pick up her snoozing form and return her to her bedroom.

When he started dragging her off, he immediately regretted it. She had lain her hair _everywhere_, and tugging her out of the room just allowed the golden ropes to catch on the furniture, and he knew that something fragile would be bound to get broken sooner or later. Alternatively, the hair could have gotten tangled up in too much stuff, and all that yanking on her scalp would wake her up.

Grudgingly, he set her down in an armchair, muttering as he marched through the living room, gathering her hair bundle by bundle, unhooking it from strangest of places. He was surprised at how smooth and light it actually was; Rapunzel maintained it surprising well. Dropping them all into a neat pile, he picked the girl up again and this time managed to make a smooth exit as he took her back to her room. Slipping her under covers, he then went back to the lounge to retrieve the reminder of her hair, hauling it back to the room, then placing the pile not too far from her head.

He then returned to the living room again to get the girl's sleeping reptile, when he took a clearer look at the program that was running. He almost choked when he saw a familiar young boy - with bright brown eyes, high-cheek bones and an angular jaw - scampering through the jungle, boldly yelling taunts at his pursuers though he was really shaking in fear.

Flynn felt a sinking pit in his stomach as he flicked off the screen. It wasn't just that she now knew the truth – that he had allied with the Careers in his year, she'd bring that up tomorrow - but more importantly, he had been trying so hard to forget, and this unfortunate clip had brought back many great haunts. He still had very bad nightmares about those days – some nights he'd wake a sweating like a pig, barely able to stand without his knees turning to jelly. Something like what he was doing right now.

Dropping the dozing Pascal onto his best friend's pillow, Flynn quickly headed back to his own room. He was breathing too quickly now and that was especially unhelpful, especially since he was starting to see spots in his vision. He shook his head, struggling to focus as he dug through his luggage, desperately looking for the only thing that could drive the demons away.

Halfway through ripping his clothes out of the bag, he suddenly drew back when he found his hands running red. But with a firm shake of his head again, the red stains vanished. At the back of his head though, he could still hear piercing screams of both the innocent and the much less so; all whom he ended with the end of his blade. His breaths accelerated unhealthily.

He was trembling like a leaf when he finally drew out what he was seeking for; a flat, polished wooden box, with a small keypad on its front. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he filled the six-letter code, and gasped in relief when he removed the leather-bound book inside.

Flipping open the cover, his eyes gladly fell onto the words on the title page.

_The Tales of Flynnigan Rider._

For another two hours, he returned to innocent boyhood; when he still had dreams, and his hands were a lot cleaner.

* * *

**District 3 Living Quarters**

The technological district had no shortage of geniuses, but Honey Lemon was too humble to ever consider herself one. Certainly, she was greatly passionate in chemistry, and she enjoyed working in it, but a genius? That was reserved for only the best. Like the Hamada Brothers.

Being an expert in a field of science, however, didn't automatically mean that she was socially dense. For instance, at this very moment, she knew that Hiro had been deliberately started from the bottom of the list to avoid confrontation.

"-how she got that nine. She looks so petite! I'm not meaning that we're big-size either, but hey, we've got brains-"

"I talked to her once. She seemed nice," Honey added in, but she kept her eyes on the wiry boy instead of the scribbling.

"Okay, tentative then," he muttered in reply, scratching a question-mark next to the District 8 girl's name. "Now, the Stabbington kids? Too dense, too violent – probably non too bright either." He marked an 'X' at District 7. Biting the pencil for a second, he did the same for District 6. "The guy from there is way too creepy, and the girl's too spoilt. Alright, so what do you think of 5?"

Honey hesitated, glancing down at the slip. They were hitting pretty close already. Perhaps it was time. "Hiro-"

"The girl's a fighting type, so I'd doubt she'd do peaceful," the spiky-haired boy didn't wait for her answer. "The guy's super chill though – maybe he'll listen-"

"Hiro."

"-I guess I'll put him on 'tenta' too," Hiro rambled on, marking on the District 5 boy's name the way he marked on the District 8 girl, then stopped his pencil at the girl's name. Honey noted that for a brief moment, his eyes flickered up at the four districts on the top of the list. He then made a question mark on District 5 girl's name, then marked a huge cross on the first four districts.

"There!" He flung up his hands and stretched out. "All done! Ten people! Excluding present company, of course."

"Hiro," Honey pressed more firmly, " I think we need to talk-"

"Uh-huh?" Hiro murmured, as he dropped the list and returned to reverse-engineering the small camera on his table. Shoving a screwdriver over his ear, he used the thin pliers to dig out the wires from the device. "Sorry, hold this up for me, won't you?" he said, grabbing a flashlight and handing it to her.

Honey obligingly switched it on, shining it into the hole that Hiro working on in the camera. "We need to talk about Tadashi."

For a moment, the fourteen-year-old boy froze up. Sighing, he continued with his work, though his usual energy was gone. Plaintively, he replied, "Tadashi's gone, Honey."

"He isn't. Well, he is _physically_, but that's not the point." Honey watched the boy's sorrowful expression as he pried out the flash capacitor from the camera. "Hiro, you need to let go."

"I have," the boy protested, but his eyes didn't meet her when he said that. They were staring down at the band looped around his right arm.

Honey caressed his hair fondly, though wistfully shaking her head as she did. "No, you haven't," she contradicted.

"What's the point of this?" He snapped, drawing his head roughly from Honey's hand. His face was grim when he agitatedly started attacking the wires, slicing them up and soldering them to the soldering them to shutter button.

She tapped on the sheet."The District 2 boy, Hiccup. I think he should be on the list."

"He's a Career," Hiro responded shortly. Then he ended with a growl, "And he's from District _2_."

"He isn't the one who killed Tadashi," Honey defended. Her voice was soft, but resolute.

"Does it matter? They're all hard-core killers," the boy retorted heatedly. "They don't deserve to be saved."

Honey stared sorrowfully at him. "You know that isn't true-"

"- all the time, but in my defense, that District 2 girl really didn't." A familiar dry voice echoed down the corridor.

The tributes found themselves in the presence of the young bubble-gum-chewing victor. Her eyes were as hard as agates when glared down, though her anger was not at them. "I'm not proud about smacking down people, but I can take it," she told them, her voice acrid and cold. "However, Tadashi couldn't. He was too compassionate." She paused to breath, her hand rubbing her temple. "He had always wanted to help people. Look where _that_ got him."

She snorted a bitter laugh, wiping the stray tears from her eyes. Addressing Hiro, she said, "If you don't want to put this boy on the list, then don't. Besides, you've got to do some cutting to do. Pronto."

With that said, she handed the boy as slip. Before he opened it, Hiro hit one of the buttons on his armband, reading the numbers off it. "We're got thirty seconds."

Spreading out the slip of paper, he and Honey hunched over the table, reading it together. Gogo continued chewing on the gum, brushing back her black bangs as she allowed the news sink in for the two.

Hiro was the first to speak. "Five?" He gasped, grasping anxiously at his hair. "Only five?"

Honey was just as perplexed as he was."But they promised at least _twelve_."

"Obviously, they lied," Gogo said, dripping with cynicism. "To be fair, it wasn't as if we could save everybody."

Honey could see that Hiro was still costernate about the message, so she helped him gently back into his chair.

"Only five," he repeated breathlessly, his eyes still fixed on the new message. "How are we ever going to choose?"

Honey desperately tried to think of anything that could be of comfort, but she was a just chemist, not a problem-solver. "I don't know, Hiro."

"Well, you guys better get to it eventually," Gogo told them drily, but even Honey noticed her tough girl's weary expression. "I'll go and tell your useless mentor. Where is he, anyway?"

"Wasabi's working out the sponsor details with Fred," Honey informed her, but her eyes never left the boy.

Gogo rolled her eyes at the mention of the latter's name. "Why do we even work with that guy," she mumbled scornfully as she made her way out of the room, but not before crushing the slip she had given them, then flaming it with a lighter. The ashes, she chucked into the bin.

Hiro pressed the button on his armband again, then folded his arms and leaned back. Seeing how forlorn he looked, Honey Lemon wound her arms around Hiro's slumped form, taking him into a firm embrace. "It will be alright, Hiro," she said soothingly, patting his head. "There, there."

He didn't say anything, until in a biting tone, "The odds are never in our favor, are they?"

"They're never in anyone's favor," she morosely admitted to him, stroking his hair tenderly, "but the Capitol's." She wondered if this was exactly how Tadashi had felt when they placed him here; crumbling in despair, unwilling to accept the fact that so many had to die for himself to live. Few people gave him credit for such, but Hiro's empathy could easily match his brother's.

The black-haired boy picked up the list on the paper, his eyes running over all the names again. "Five," he murmured bitterly. "Just the odds of five."

* * *

**S/N:**

**Hope you liked the new POVs. Besides Elsa's POV, it's all supporting character POV today. If you like these characters, enjoy this chapter, because you may never get their POV again from here on.**

**A bit of backstory for Gogo and Flynn – what do you think?**

**Some things that may puzzle you: What's Pitch mad about? What's the matter with Vanellope? Flynn and Gogo - huh? What the hell is with 'the list'? Just to assure you it's part of the story, and will be answered in due time. Some of you may have already guessed what they mean.**

**Up next: Interviews! I'm so excited! It'll take about 2-3 chapters, because it's gonna be fun!**

_"**-Twirl for me-"**_

_"**-I'll make you proud, I promise-"**_

_"**-I'm sorry that I've only ever disappointed you-"**_

**and…**

_"**-winning won't help in my case."**_

_"**Why not?"**_

_"**Because she's here too…"**_

**But who? Stay tuned!**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hey guys! This would be my last update till to mid-december. I'm flying off tonight. Hurray, but sorry guys.**

**Today's a kind of trademark day for me, because this story has just reached 50 reviews (Okay if you read the reviews properly, you'll realize it's not actually 50 reviews, but I don't care)! I'm so happy! In the words of Hiro, "I fail to see, how you fail to see, that this is awesome!"**

**Last chapter is also the highest number of reviews I have ever got for a chapter! Thank you guys so much your responses! **

**Mailbox: **

**AliceInNeverland95: Yay! The characters are still in character …so far. I'm glad that you didn't find my story too dramatic. I love drama a lot, something I'm afraid it'd impair the story. I love your account name – excellent combination of two highly-engrossing English classics. I wish I could use the Genie – he'd be so pumped and running as Caesar, but I placed the post-2010 limit on myself so…urgh… But yes, Genie would have been a wonderful addition here. Thanks for reviewing**

**Queen Elsa Frost of Arendelle: Hey again! Thank you! Hope you like this chappie (but I think I'm right in saying that next one would be better.)**

**NaomilovesJelsa: Thank you! Hope you didn't hurt anyone in that short moment. I'm glad you like the replies. I like them too.**

**DauntlessDemigod: Scores are but scores, my dear Dauntless. Okay, to be honest, one reason why I gave them such low scores is because I was tired of giving everyone high scores (if you think about it, all the characters are remarkably talented – most of them are main characters in their movies, c'mon - so it's actually really difficult to decide who's gets higher.) Keeping low scores however can also be a really good strategy. Come the games, the table will turn very rapidly. Thanks for reviewing, and have no fear; Hans will keep his share of the story.**

**Guest: Thank you! I did write this because most THG AU fics weren't meeting my expectations, and I really wanted a good ROTBTFD one. One good one (Beneath a Sanguine Moon by Solemini) there I've been reading only featured Rise of the Guardians characters and hasn't been updated recently. Yeah, sometimes I get frustrated at handling all the characters and the numerous subplots (this happened lots in Chapter 7-8), but it's worth it.**

**ElvisRules41: Yeah, it isn't a plot twist, but I'm still glad it surprised you. Initially, I was planning to give Hiccup a low score for the accident, but then I thought – if a guy could build a mini-catapult in seven minutes without metal, who wouldn't be impressed? Here, I made Pitch a somewhat 'fair' Head Gamemaker, so tada! Hiccup the Useless gets pretty good.**

**Awsomaniatica: Interviews are so exciting, right? Sorry they'll only come next month, but I hope this chapter serves as a good appetizer. Or maybe it'll just ruin your day with more questions…I dunno.**

**Anastasia 1234: That's really sweet! Thank you! I'm really glad you love this. I really am.**

**Guest/SmilingStarcat: Thank you! It's a bit difficult to keep remember what I've written and what I haven't sometimes, so I apologise if I do end up making any repetitions. Elsa's powers are going to play a huge deciding story here, and yes, I'm pulling a huge twist. I've been dropping hints every now and…I'll shut up now.**

**That's all for now. See you in aroundd two weeks people!**

**Review! Critique! Ask Questions!**


	11. Chapter 10: For Those We Love Part 1

The Guardian Games  
Chapter 10: For Those We Love So Dearly Part 1

* * *

Theme music played merrily in the background.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, good evening to you all! I'm Mike Wazowski, your master of ceremonies, and it is my pleasure and honour to welcome you to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

The Capitol streets were blocked up with spectators stands, all full of enthusiastic citizens, cheering and squealing their lungs outs.

"I'm sure all of you know how important and exciting these games are to all of us, such that even our revered President Lotso is gracing us with his presence tonight."

On cue, a spotlight fell onto the President's balcony as the venerable, sage gentlemen rose to greet his adoring subjects.

The presenter gave a wave in that direction before carrying on,"Tomorrow will be the games that we've dying for "- some sniggers in the crowds -"but first, I'm sure all of us are eager to learn more about this years' tributes. So who am I to keep you waiting? Ladies and Gentlemen, let that interviews begin!"

The crowds roared and pounded on tables as the theme music blared on, like a throng of cannibals, stamping and crowing for a kill.

* * *

She couldn't tell if she wanted to die of mortification or anger.

She decided that reacting according to the latter would serve her reputation better, so she stomped up to the boy huddled in the corner and kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!" He squeaked, rubbing his leg and glaring up at her.

"Get up, you idiot!" She hissed at him in a low voice. Some of the tributes waiting behind them where laughing, and that only made her madder. "What are you thinking sitting down in the middle of the queue like that?" She wondered if he had lost his wits or something. It was obviously unseemly behavior for a member of such a powerful district to be cowering in a corner. Grabbing his shoulder harshly, she yanked him to his feet.

"Hey, I was just tired of standing in line. I didn't mean it to-" he cut himself off when as he scanned her from head to toe, gawking.

Astrid's eyes narrowed to slits, demanding, "What?"

"Er... y-you look d-different," he stammered. Noting that the crease in her brow deepened, he added quickly, "It's a good different!"

"How?" She demanded, but her expression softened somewhat.

"You look more like a girl." She glanced down at her tight-fitting turquoise gown, then raised her brow at him threatening. He recoiled instantly. "Not that I've ever doubted your femininity! Er, I mean, your _female superior-ness_!"

He was acting weird again; shifting his arms up and down as he tried to explain himself, his face turning redder and redder each second. She turned her attention to the stage for a moment. Shen's interview was clearing up soon, which would that her own interview would come, and eventually, so would Hiccup's. Since time was running so short, she ignored the rest of his gabbling when she grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Hiccup," she snapped, silencing with him when her hard eyes meeting his terrified own, "when you go on stage, you need to stop being all of - _this_." She waved vaguely at him.

He appeared rather miffed by that."You just gestured to all of me."

"Not all of you exactly. Just most of you." He seemed even more confused by her amendment. Blowing her bangs back in annoyance, she tried to rephrase herself. "You know that weird way you act every time you think someone's gonna kill you?"

He paused to ponder, before remarking, "You mean like now?"

"Yes, exactly! You've got to stop that."

"There isn't an 'off' switch for this, you know," he muttered under his breath, but a glare from her shut his  
up again. "Okay, then what should I do?"

"Be yourself."

He gaped at her, as if she had just asked him to wear a drag and dance a hula.

"You're a hiccup, Hiccup. This isn't District 2 anymore and the Capitol wants to be entertained. So go on, make fun of yourself! Use all that dry wit and clumsiness and sarcasm, for goodness sake."

Hiccup seemed quite surprised at how passionate her little speech was, and honestly, so was she. Hoping to cover up any concern she might have accidentally displayed, she added, "But don't fall flat your face, or kill MikeWazowski by accident. Our district has a reputation to keep up."

"Sure," he replied, but the goofy grin plastered on his face failed to convince her of his seriousness.

The crowds were cheering out now, so she assumed that Shen's time was over, meaning that hers was on. Shutting her eyes, she exhaled deeply.

"Hey," she heard the nasal voice behind her. Opening her eyes, she turned to face him. "I'd wish you good luck, but," he grinned awkwardly, "you don't really need it."

"Yeah, I don't." She beamed cockily in spite of herself. Without warning, she punched him hard in his shoulder.

"Ow! Seriously, can you people give this shoulder a break?" He complained, still cringing from the blow. "It needs healing time."

"That's for being such an idiot," she commented, ignoring his grumbles. Perhaps it was remorse for hitting him, she held her hand out to him."And that's for everything else. May odds be ever in your favour, Hiccup."

Slowly, he took her hand and shook it, his bony hand fitting too well in her own. "Yeah, but they're already in yours."

Whether it was just some sarcastic jab, or he had meant it sincerely, Astrid didn't have time to ask. Adjusting her jeweled head band one last time, she climbed up the stairs and took the stage.

* * *

"-well, Mr. Wazowski-"

"Just call me Mike, kid. Wazowski's such a pronunciation-killer sometimes."

"Well, Mike, if you think 'Wazowski' is hard name to live with, try mine for size. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. Yes, you heard me right."

The audience gasped in astonishment, and laughter exploded across the streets.

"You're joking!" The green-haired master of ceremonies exclaimed. Hiccup was sure that the presenter already knew this fact, since he kept tabs on tributes, but Mike was a good enough fellow that he'd play along to help.

"Mike, I kid you not, unfortunately," the scrawny boy sighed with a tragic air. "Can you imagine having to carry a name of that size - with all this?" He gestured to himself. The audience chuckled heartily.

He continued," They say 'if the helmet fits you, wear it,' but I'm already having issues in my clothes. Literally." He raised his arms, flapping his oversize sleeves back and forth to emphasize the point. "Don't talk to me about names."

By now, the audience was in an uproar, and for a full thirty seconds as the entire Capitol laughed at - no, _with -_ this uncharacteristically hilarious District 2 tribute.

"Oh," cried the host, still chortling as he wiped the stray tear from his eye. "I guess itgoes without saying that it's not easy filling in your dad's shoes, hey?" He addressed the crowds, who all murmured in agreement. They knew Stoick the Vast and his massive reputation.

At the mention of his father, Hiccup's mind suddenly blacked-out. Any snarky commentary or any bad puns he could produce suddenly vanished when an overwhelming sense of dread and guilt flooded him.

"Hey, Hiccup, are you home?" Mike said to the boy. The boy blinked, jerked unwillingly back to reality. Mike probably had taken note of his side-track, so he reiterated the comment, "I was talking about following your father's footsteps. His very big footsteps." That addition earned some light snickers from the spectators.

Hiccup scrambled for something, but he kept drawing a blank. His palms were starting to sweat as he realized that the silence was dragging, and all the rapport he may have built tonight would disappear if he kept this up.

His mind returned to what Astrid had said. '_Stop looking at people like they're going to kill you._' That one he'd managed to maintain mostly. '_Make fun of yourself.'_ He'd done that several times, and it's work so far, but it was going to be forgotten unless he spun a new angle.

'_Be yourself.'_ He suddenly knew what he needed to do, but it was going to be extremely painful. Still, it was the only thing he could think of tonight, and if he was going to die tomorrow, he should say at least once.

To be himself, he wasn't going to just be an insecure boy - he was going to be an insecure son.

His voice was parched and broken, "It's pretty hard, being son of the strongest, bravest man your District's ever known."

A hush resounded in the spectator stands as the crowds hung on his every word.

He could barely keep his face impassive as he carried on."Everyone's always expected me to be like my dad." He snorted distastefully at himself. "Not exactly working out." A little tittering from the crowds, but it was sympathy that was more quickly passed around.

"I doubt he'd ever said it, but I'd could always tell by how he acted around me. It couldn't have been easy after all"- he tried to shrug, but it ended more like slumping his shoulders - "having such a pathetic son."

So great was the stillness that even a pin drop could be heard. Mike gave him a pat on the back, before asking, "If let's say - only 'if' - you know you won't make it through the games, what would you tell your father?"

What he would say? - there were a million of unsaid words over the years that needed desperately to be communicated, but three minutes were running out, and this may be very last time he could say anything at all.

His voice was shaky, but he said it loud, "Dad," he swallowed nervously, "I know I never was the son you wanted, and I'm sorry that I've only ever disappointed you. I just want you to know that"- his throat was dry with fear, but he gulped it down - "I'll try, Dad, and I hope that this is one thing that I-I won't disappoint you about."

It sounded really weak, which is why he appreciated the presenter's addition next. Mike squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly, declaring firmly,"And try you will, Hiccup. Try you will." Jumping to his feet and guiding to the boy to his own, the presenter turned to crowds."Ladies and Gentlemen, Hiccup of District 2!"

The crowds applauded and cheered madly, but Hiccup couldn't take pleasure in his victory tonight. Not when tomorrow was so near.

* * *

"-Hiro- did I pronounce your name right?"

"You need to roll on the 'r' but besides that, it's fine."

"Alright, Hiro, what would you say is your biggest advantage in the game?"

"My expertise with electronics, duh. You give me anything with wires and I can promise you I'll can make you cry with it."

"I've a feeling you won't be finding much machinery down in the Arena, though."

Some chuckles.

"Oh, you'd be surprised at what one can dig up-"

* * *

She could almost hear her mother's voice. 'Take small steps - ladies don't go galloping around on stage. Sit with your legs together, for goodness sake! You are not sitting on a horse!"

It was uncomfortable, but Merida bore with it. Placing her feet together, she lay her hands on her lap, straightening out her back.

"So Merida," the strange, short green man on her left started talking, "how has your visit to the Capitol been?"

"It's quite alright." She could imagine her mother groaning at that; an answer like that was could kill all form of conversation instantly. So she added, "I love the food." She could slap herself for how stupid that sounded.

Mike didn't seem to think that, though. "Oh, really? What's your favorite dish so far?"

Trying to sound light-hearted, Merida jingled a false giggle. "Well, there are so many. I do like the sugar buns awfully, and the roast beef here's a quite a belter-"

"A belter?" The presenter asked, not understanding.

"Oh, some district slang," she hurriedly explained. "It means 'great' or 'awesome'." If her mother were here, she'd rant on and on about how slang was for the working class folk, and a lady needed to speak with diction and precision. Well her mother wasn't here now. Deciding that she might as well earn some popularity points, she got up and yelled, "The Capitol's a belter!"

The citizen's roared in approval to her statement, and she waved enthusiastically at them, garnering more hearty cheers.

"Well, Merida," Mike said, when she took her seat again, "I'd love to hear more about the food you love, or learn more charming District 5 slang. Nut time's a little short, and there some questions that we really like to ask."

"Well, fire away, Mike," she responded casually, kicking back her heels, leaning herself against the seat as she tucked her hands behind her head, possibly ruining the bun that her red curls were twisted in. Within twenty seconds, she had discarded the ladylike image, and in her head, she couldn't help but be amused by that.

"Well, Merida, " the green man began, "a lot of us here would very much like to know; why did you volunteer? That girl who got reaped wasn't some friend of yours, was she?"

"Oh, no," Merida answered readily. She had predicted this question and was prepared for it. "If you want my honest answer, I just wanted to be a heroine. I know it sounds silly"- she chuckled lightly along with Mike - "but I'd thought it was high time my district got themselves a victor." It was a very confident answer, and no doubt the career pack would take it as a challenge. She didn't mind; let them come.

"Well, with an amazing high score like 11, I have no doubt that you've got something special in store for us," Mike said, turning to her.

"Aye, I do." She smirked mysteriously, hoping that it would be enough to gain the audience's interest. "But that's a secret."

"Could you drop a hint? A teaser?"

The redhead shook her head, still grinning slyly.

"Aww, c'mon! We can't take the suspense, can we folks?" He called out to the audience. They hooted in agreement.

"Well," Merida pretended to consider, "all I can say is that, I'm strong, like my da'-"

"Fergus Dunbroch? The last victor from District 5?" That was added for the benefit of any audience who hadn't been following the games too closely.

"Aye, one and the same." Merida beamed at the mention of her father. "And I'm wiley and quick," - she recalled the night before the reaping - "like my mum."

A vision suddenly flashed through her mind; her father leaning back on his fur-covered chair, roaring his head off at every little thing she said, bellowing, "That's my lass!" Her brothers, even though they pretended to hate her, would probably have crafted out banners bearing her name. She could imagine them racing around, waving them madly while her mother told them to shush. She would be all prim and proper, complete with tea and cake. She'd remark something disapproving, but her eyes would be shining with slight amusement at her husband and sons' behavior, and when she watched her daughter-

Merida didn't know actually. Would she cry? Would she chortle? Would she smack her forehead and demand why in tarnation was her daughter resting her right ankle on her left knee?

Merida realized that she'd give anything just to hear her mother say any of those again.

"Dad, mum," she said suddenly. Her eyes turned from Mike Wazowski, from the crowds, to the lens of a nearby camera that was swerving around. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the screens all focused on her face. "I'll make you proud, I promise -" solemnly, she made a cross sign over her heart,"-the way I'm proud to be your daughter." Without thinking, she kissed the three centre fingers of her left hand and held it out; a salutation of respect, for the ones who had raised her.

She heard a sob from the crowds, and spun startledly to the audience. Upon scrutiny, she noted that some hankies were being passed around in the stands, and even saw a tear in Mike's eye. "They couldn't be more proud, I'm sure," the little man told her, patting her hand. "Ladies and Gentlemen." He gestured to her to stand with him and she did. Taking her hand and raising it with his own, he announced, "Merida Dunbroch of District 5!"

The teary-eyed crowds screamed and waved. 'Remember to smile,' her mother's voice told her, so she did, beaming as she took her bow.

* * *

"Hey, Goldie."

She jumped from her seat. "Is it time?"

He gestured for to relax, shaking his head. "Still on District 5. You should come watch. The guy's gold."

"He's funny?" Rapunzel couldn't help feeling a bit of envy. She wished she could be funny, but she was too nervous for that. After watching the first four tributes, she decided to to hiding back in the studio, instead of joining the styling team and the escorts in the lounge. Perhaps it wasn't fair to compare herself with the Careers, but how everyone managed to make an angle for themselves, she didn't know. Gothel was a natural on stage, of course. She was clever and quick with quips. Elegant, witty and a tad rambunctious made her a memorable figure. Her district mate, Shen, surrounded himself with an aura of mystery and steeliness that Rapunzel didn't doubt the hard-nose Capitol folk appreciated. The District 2 girl was definitely striking both in appearance and presentation, with sharp answers and dark looks made her threatening yet appealing figure. Even her male counterpart, who seemed rather awkward and shy, actually ended up being quite a crowd stirrer - she felt like crying throughout the whole interview, first of laughter, then of sympathy.

Bruiser and Killer had already done up her dress and hair, and she knew the angle that she needed to play as; the gushing, excited valley girl who just loved everything about the Capitol. However, as time dragged by, she began to doubt her abilities in pulling off such a show.

"-actually, I think he's not really being funny on purpose," Flynn was saying, "It's more like he doesn't know what's going on."

He must have noted her trouble countenance, because his tone changed. "You okay, Blondie?"

"Honestly?" She squeezed herself on to the studio chair, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I'm terrified."

"Well, maybe try to have some mercy when throwing people of train carriages." That earned an unamused expression from both her and her chameleon. Clearing his throat, he asked again,"So, what's the matter?"

She sighed, looping back a strand of gold. "I don't think I can do this. What if I trip and fall? Or I say something stupid? Or they just laugh at me?" As she rattled on, the tall man just turned to the chameleon, who with a sad, shaking head, told him what he needed to know.

"Rapunzel," he interjected firmly. She paused, spinning towards him. "You're gonna do fine. Look," he grabbed a studio stool, drawing up to her, "when I was in your spot, I was freakin' out. But my mentor at that time - a bloke called Big Nose, I don't think you've met him - just told me stop whining and do it. And you know what happened?"

"Your interview flopped."

"Exactly!" Flynn cried. Then his face fell. "Wait, you know?"

"I kind of watched it yesterday, and then..." she trailed off, suddenly finding the floor extremely fascinating.

"Well, yeah," Flynn hurried to bridge the gap, "but the thing is, in the end I still won, because one; I already had dozens of sponsors, who, even after my embarrassing presentation, still supported me. Two; I had enough skills to get me through the Arena. I've already snagged your sponsors, and you have your cool hair. What does this tell you?"

Rapunzel pondered for a moment. "That my interview doesn't matter?"

"Now you've got!" Flynn thumped her heartily on the back. "Just go out there and have fun."

She was still rather skeptical, and extremely confused, reminding him, "I thought you wanted me to play up being the 'harmless git'."

"Well," he made a face, "that kind of went down the drain when you got a nine for your judging."

She blushed guiltily, muttering,"Oh, sorry."

"It's fine." He shrugged. He took one of her shaking hands, steadying it with his own. "Blondie, tonight might very well be the very last night to you ever have, and I think it's way more important that you have some fun than putting a fancy show."

She asked, with a giggle,"So, I should do something crazy?"

"No. You must do something crazy,"'he insisted with a grin. "Have the time of your life, and you'll give the Capitol something to remember."

It was only in the pause they realized how close their faces were. Rapunzel turned pink while Flynn hastily removed his hands from her own, flushing slightly as he did. "Err, well,-" he brushed back his hair in attempt to gloss over it, "-good luck." He rose to leave, but just as he was about to reach the door, he spun back. Rapunzel could sense he was debating with himself, before he finally said, "I know you watched my Games yesterday."

"Yeah," she confirmed it uneasily, her eyes downcast again.

She could feel his conflict as he stuttered out, "You know, if there is - if you still want - I can still seal an alliance with the District 1 girl."

"No." Her answer was immediate. Seeing his raised brow, she explained her answer, "I think I understand why you don't me to, so I won't."

"Okay." His tone was neutral, but Rapunzel could tell he was really relieved. "I was just afraid, you know, you'd think me as a hypocrite," he scoffed bitterly at himself. "I'm the furthest thing from the perfect mentor, y'know. I completely get it if you don't trust half the stuff I tell you."

"What? No," she contradicted out flat. "You're not perfect, but you're an amazing mentor, Flynn Rider, don't ever think otherwise." At a fit of impulse, she swung her arms around him, engulfing him in an embrace.

"Ha," was all she heard from him, but he sounded pleased, and he didn't pull away. A moment of silence later, he spoke again, but not quite what she had expected.

"Eugene."

She dropped her arms, drawing back. "What?"

He gave her a small smile. "My real name's Eugene Fitzherbert." He shrugged. "I guess someone might as well know."

She widened her eyes at that, wondering if it could be some joke, but Flynn-Eugene seemed too embarrassed for it to be anything but the truth.

Well, she supposed that that might be all the backstory she'd ever get from him. Since a good turn deserved another, she promptly answered,"My hair turns brown and stops growing when I cut it."

His reaction was instant. "What?"

Just then, the two stylists barged in. "Five minutes to stage time," Killer growled - it wasn't that he meant to be menacing. He just couldn't help his ferocious manner, Rapunzel had come to realise.

Leaving a confused Flynn-Eugene, she said to him as they dragged her off, "You'll be watching, right?"

He couldn't give her an answer because he was still completely blow away by her previous statement.

Turning to the reptile, he demanded incredulously, "Her hair turns _what_ when _what_?"

The green creature only nodded smugly.

* * *

**S/N:**  
**This chapter is very dialogue heavy, but it can't be helped. It's interviews. Hope y'all don't mind.**  
**So, Mike Wazowski for Caesar Flickerman! I decided to get around my post-2010 rule by reminding myself that Monster University came out in 2013, so by extension...**

**Did anyone catch the snippet of Frozen dialogue by Hiccup? There was a Lion King reference too.**

**So Flynn reveals his true identity to a random blonde kid that he had known for what, - five days? (In the movie he did it in half a day. hmmph.)**

**Up Next: Interviews Part 2**

**Man, does anyone realise how close the games are already? So exciting!**

* * *

**A/N:**  
**Hi, back from vacation, but the thing is I wrote this entire chapter and next during vacation, so I hope next update is prompt enough.**  
**Btw, to any fellow writers out there, how do you guys balance writing, work and social life? I think I'm not doing a very good job, honestly. Is there an update period that you guys are most okay with? Like once every week is okay?**  
**I finally extremely amusing that the chapter I got the most reviews was followed by the chapter I got the least reviews for. That's actually kind of funny, and a nice deflator for my ego... But to reviewers, thank you! It's still nice to get these.**

**Mailbox:**

**SmilingStarcat: Thanks for your review! Yes, you already know too much, but I hope how I tackle this issue will blow your mind, in someway. It's gonna be quite complicated, and possibly quite hard to believe, but hopefully overall whatever I do will make sense. I'm going to kill some nice people, yes, but there're always ways to bring them back (no, I'm not going to revive the dead.) Hoped you like the interviews!**

**ElvisRules41: Haha! Flynn on drugs is plausible, but it'd be too distracting in the story. Besides, I needed to throw in the Tales of Flynnigan Rider at some point. Initially, I was going to make Rapunzel find the book immediately, but why pass on an angsty moment?**  
**I haven't read the Httyd books, but I have read up some on it, and lots of Httyd fanfics have stuff referencing to it, so I'll be using some book refs (e.g. in chap 4, I mention that Spitelout was Hiccup's uncle, but this was never mentioned in films). I'm also going to reference to lots of original material, like Rotg books, The original Snow Queen, and even the Big Hero 6 comics. The focus material, however, are still the films.**  
**Yeah, Pitch being fair is sort of weird, but don't worry, he's just doing it to annoy Lotso.**

**Next chapter is coming soon! I just need to edit language and grammar.**  
**See ya folks!**


	12. Chapter 11:For Those We Love Part 2

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 11: For Those We Love So Dearly Part 2

* * *

"Rapunzel, I think we're extremely curious about your hair. Is it real?"

"Yep, it is."

"How long is it exactly?"

"A little over 70 feet, the last time I measured it."

"Whoa-ho! You hear that folk! A full 70 feet!" The presenter chuckled, while the crowds murmured in astonishment. "Do you mind me asking though, why have you kept it so long? If it isn't a sensitive issue, of course."

"I...I can only say it's kinda of a health problem."

"I see. Now, I understand you have something to show us?"

"Oh, yes." The blonde girl scrambled to pick up the instrument lying by her side. "I'd just like to say I've enjoyed my stay in the Capitol. I've eaten so much amazing food, tried so many cool clothes, and met some good people." Her eyes darted immediately to young brown-haired man seated in the stands. He gave a two-fingered salute, then pointed at the green chameleon on his shoulder. "I'm really thankful to have this opportunity, and I only wish I could stay longer" -there were some 'awwws' echoing around- "So! I would like to sing this song," - she draped the strap over shoulder, with her fingers twined around the finger board, -"about that, and I dedicate it to my mentor, Eu-erm, Flynn."

The spotlight went suddenly to the brown-haired man. Basking in the attention, he grinned and waved to the appreciative crowd, but a curious look was what he shot at her.

"Oh, and thank you, Hook Hand, for providing the guitar," Rapunzel added, clearing her throat as she poised her fingers over the strings. Strumming gently, she allowed the intro to pass before beginning,

_"All those days, watching from the windows,__  
__All those years, outside looking in.__  
__All that time, never really knowing,__  
__just how blind I've been."_

She glanced up nervously, catching her mentor's eye again. He nodded encouragingly, giving her a small smile. Taking in a quick breath, she went on,  
_  
__"Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight,__  
__Now I'm here, suddenly I see.__  
__Standing here, it's all so clear,__  
__I'm where I'm meant to be."_

Her voice was clear and sonorous. Her fingers nimbly climbed the board.

_"And at last I see the light,__  
__And it's like the fog has lifted.__  
__And at last I see the light,__  
__And it's like the sky is new."__"And it's warm and real and bright,__  
__Like the world has somehow shifted."_

The entire Capitol listened in awestruck silence as the chords descended.

_"All at once, everything is different,  
Now that I see you."_

Raising her head, she grinned when she saw him mouth 'crazy' and gave her a thumbs-up. Pascal was hopping up and down in excitement, along with the raving crowds.

"I've gotta say, you have an amazing voice," Mike said admiringly.

"Thank you." The flush that rose to her cheeks seemed to make her glow.

"I'm sure we'd all love an encore, hey folks?"

The audience chorused in agreement.

"Unfortunately, we're running short of time. Thank you for your song, Rapunzel, but we've got to finish the questions."

"Sure." She didn't really pay any attention for the rest of the show, because all of hers were fixed on the lanky young man who was engaged in conversation with a miniature reptile.

* * *

For an entire twenty-seconds since his arrival, deafening shrieks were heard from all over the stands. Some ambulances even came on scene just to carter off those who had fainted.

The short green-haired man chortled mirthfully. "I guess you're kind of a lady-killer, aren't you?"

Jack jerked himself uneasily towards the presenter, still quaking in his leather shoes as he sat himself down. He managed to croak hoarsely, "Not on purpose."

There were some laughs from the floor, before many more chants of '_I love you, Jack!' _filled another five seconds. Wiping off the terrified expression from his face proved to be a challenge. Why did he ever listened to Bunnymund and do the 'flirty-wave-and-wink' stuff during the parade? Now every girl in the Capitol must be convinced that he was her personal Romeo or something! Running off the stage screaming was ridiculously attractive at that point of time.

"Is it always like this at home?" The presenter asked, smirking at the boy's obvious distress.

Jack gulped, then wheezed out, just barely audible, "Sometimes it's worse."

The presenter burst into chuckles and so did the audience. Jack cautiously straightened his coat, looking at the host pleadingly. He avoided any glances to the crowds, lest some of the fans assumed that he was looking at them.

Mike noticed this and tried to help. "Well, Jack - just out of pure curiosity, mind you - do you have some special girl of your own?"

Jack privately thought that this wasn't the best chat topic, but at least the spectators were quiet now. Too quiet, actually. Though he didn't dare steal any glances,he was sure all the girls were desperately awaiting his next words, hoping that he would deny it.

His mind immediately drew out some high school dates, but he discarded those - too boring. There was Tooth, who was possibly the sweetest girl in the world. He liked her very much, but he was certain it definitely not 'that way.' Then there was the 'angel' - the platinum blonde girl from District 12...

Whoa! He crossed her out quickly - and why was she even on the list? He barely spoke to her and after the training session, he was sure she felt nothing but disgust towards him. Besides, it would be taboo to have 'feelings' for a fellow tribute, especially from another district. Not that he had any, or anything at all...

A grin crept on his face as a wicked idea popped in his head. It would seem that he could have some fun after all.

"Well, there is special young lady who's waiting for me at home."

Silence was so thick one could walk on it.

"Her eyes are chocolate brown and so her hair. She's not very tall, and to some, she might not be considered pretty. She likes bossing me around and blaming me for things I haven't done - okay, fine I've done _some_ of them. She loves ice-skating and building snowmen, but she hates shoving snow. She hates going to school, but she loves making me go. Most of all, she loves to hear my stories, but she'd always criticize them at the end. She's the single most annoying person I've ever had my life, and the only one I'd die for over and over."

Turning to the crowds, he smirked when he noted the many disconsolate faces amongst the female population. He could see Bunnymund fuming at his seat. North was the only obstacle stopping the grey-haired man from stomping over and giving his mentee a much deserved ragging. Jack felt sorry for his mentor sometimes, but it was just so amusing to tease him that he couldn't resist it; it was like taking a carrot from a raging rabbit.

He decided to spare them further agony. "She's Emma, my little sister."

The sigh of relief from the spectator stands was unanimous.

Mike continued from that, "Well, your little sister is one really lucky girl, to have a brother like you."

"I'd say I'm the lucky one," Jack told him, before turning to a camera, "but I still think you're annoying, Emma!"

Some snickers were heard, and Jack couldn't help joining in.

"Is there anything you would like to tell her right now?"

"Like on the TV?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Jack took a moment to ponder, which was readily filled by more chants and declarations of love by his fans. When his lips parted to speak, a hush descended as all eagerly perked their ears.

"Doesn't mean that sun comes up means that the moon's gone. Doesn't mean there are clouds overhead means the sun's gone. Just believe, and you'll know where to find me."

It was cryptic, and honestly made it very little sense to an outsider. Jack didn't know if he should interpret the lull as people being really moved, or really confused.

In attempt to save himself from the awkward break, he yelled to the camera, "I love you Emma!"

The crowds licked that up like honey, and the uproar that came was so deafening and enthusiastic that Jack immediately clabbered back up into his seat. He could imagine Emma throwing her head back, laughing at his pain, and decided that perhaps all this was worth something after all.

* * *

"You are from the plantation district, aren't you Ralph?"

A grunt.

"So what do you think your best skill is?"

A grim answer, "My hands."

"Well, if you were to encounter a problem in the games, how would you deal with it?"

"I'm gonna wreck it."

"Well, sure. You certainly are very strong, but with the tough opposition you may face, what do you to say to that?"

A growl - "_I'm gonna wreck it!_"

The green-haired presenter recoiled warily. "Okay..."

* * *

She tugged hard on the gloves, rolling her knuckles in her palms. To anyone else, it looked like she was warming herself.

She was so stiff! Why couldn't she be pleasant and cheery? Why couldn't she laugh and make jokes? Anna would do so much better; she was a people-person, after all. She'd gabble on about something completely trivial and make several slip-ups, but her awkward sweetness and bubbly friendliness would win hearts instantly.

Then Elsa reminded herself why Anna was not here.

"-you know her better as the 'Snow Queen', she heard Mike Wazowski's voice blaring from the front. The applause was not much softer. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Elsa Arendelle, the Girl on Ice!"

The heels were biting into her soles as she ascended the stage. The teal green dress was quite becoming on her, but she was well aware that it paled heavily comparison to the fantastic crystal blue gown she had several days earlier. She wondered what was going through her stylist's mind when he gave her this dress. Her blonde hair was twisted in a coronet, which was much relieved to be wearing, and what comforted her the most was the gloves.

"My, my, aren't you a looker, Elsa," the green-haired man greeted her, taking her arm as he led her to the armchair across his own.

"Thank you." She didn't even have the grace to blush. Ladylike manners came to her easily, since Anna and her had had enough lessons from their mother before. But mannerisms alone didn't make good showmanship. Why couldn't she relax?

She could feel her palms aching and burning beneath the gloves - as much ice could burn at least. She heard Mike say something, and she shifted her body to him. "What?"

There was mild laughter at that, while Mike gave her an amused look. "I guess even the Snow Queen can get cold feet. " More laughter came with that, and Elsa forced a smile on your face. She tried to remember the words that Olaf had exchanged with her just two minutes ago - _"You're the nicest person in the world, Elsa, but you need to let people know that."_

Nice? Why should she be nice to these people, who were the very reasons why she had fight in an Arena in the first place? Her palms formed fists in her lap. 'Nice' was not an option, as far she was concerned.

"-grandest parade ever. That carpet of ice across the streets, it was like 'whoa!' I swear, this has to be the coolest thing since butterscotch ice-cream. Get it? Coolest?" Mike Wazowski was talking.

The audience chortled right on cue.

The green man turned to her now, inquiring, "How did you feel about when you were in that ice dress, rolling down the streets of the Capitol?"

She blinked, then quickly remembered that he was talking about the cover story. Trying to sound good-humoured, she replied, "You mean, after I got over freezing to death?"

Encouraging hoots of laughter came from the stands, and Elsa allowed herself to exhale, adjusting her platinum-blonde over her shoulder.

"It's a pity it lasted only for the parade." Mike sighed dramatically, and much of the crowds agreed with him. "I would love to see that snow again."

Elsa remembered something about that Olaf had said during preparation time. She had just confessed to him that honestly she had no idea what to say or do on the stage.

"Well, Elsa," he had said in sage tone, which in his bubbly voice sounded just too cheerful, "what you need to do is let it go."

"_Let it go_?" She had been bewildered. "What is 'it'?"

Olaf hadn't seemed to hear her. "On the parade night, people loved you because you let it go, and if you are willing to do it tonight, you'll do perfectly." He gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.

Stepping back, he had admired his handiwork, bouncing excitedly as he had gurgled with joy. "You look beautiful! Or you will be. Here." He had shoved a drawing into her hands. It was a sketch design of a dress much similar to the parade gown, but much shorter, without the white train, and strangely, with gloves. Elsa had to admit that the white gloves seemed rather out of place in the design.

"That part's optional," the stylist had told her, noticing her finger tracing it.

She had smiled and asked what had been bothering her for a long time, "Olaf, you know why I really wear gloves, right?"

"Yeah!" He had answered without hesitation, as he had adjusted her dress one last time. "You have a thing about dirt. Now on stage, when you ready, I want to twirl for me, then just let the 'magic' take its course."

"What!" Had been all she could say, before she had been shoved unceremoniously out of the studio, to the backstage. He was a rather confusing person, she found.

For now, she searched the crowds and eventually found the short, white-haired stylist in the stands. He found her staring and gave her a happy little wave. By his side sat the old wise victor, who now nodded at her encouragingly. His words came to mind - '_Never let fear stop you from doing what you need to do.'_

What she needed to do right now was let it go.

She was trembling, but she spoke up, "Actually, I'm wearing the snow today." She tried steadying herself with the arms of the chair, but she didn't stop herself from talking, even turning to the hordes she so despised, as she called out, "Would you like to see it?"

All answers were in approval.

Her knees felt were wobbling like jelly as she got to her feet. Reluctantly, but determinedly she removed her gloves. Dropping them onto the armchair, she took in a breath.

_'Twirl for me,'_ Olaf had said._ 'Let the magic takes its course.'_ So she closed her eyes, and spun.

Shouts of surprised pleasure came as snow started whirling around herself. Specks of ice were flying around as the teal dress wound with her. Her coronet was undone into her plait flapped against her back. She took a risk by allowing an ice blast to shoot up, bursting into icy flakes when it hit the rafters. People were already screaming and whooping with admiration. She recalled the drawing that Olaf had shown her, and with a single touch on her own dress, she willed the ice weave into the green fabric, spinning and twining until what she wore became the exact manifestation of Olaf's drawing.

Cries of awe and gasps of delight were heard all around when she finally stopped, herself giddy with exaltation. The thunderous applause shook the stands so hard that one would have thought an earthquake was happening. With a curtsy, she returned to her seat.

"That's it!" Mike exclaimed with mock resolve, "I'm getting an ice suit!" Many in the stands whooped in agreement.

She remembered to play along. "An ice suit? With your nice green self?" She found herself teasing the presenter, "I don't know about that." Some snickers came from the spectators.

Mike pretended to pout. "Don't judge till you try." But then he laughed, and Elsa gladly joined in.

As of now, only half of the three minutes had been used up. She wondered what Mike would make them talk about next. Pabbie had said he'll likely gloss over the training score - for that she was grateful, but that didn't leave much else to talk about except -

"During the reaping, Elsa, I think all of us," the green-haired gestured at the spectators, then back to himself, "were seriously moved when we saw you volunteer. That girl was your sister, wasn't she?"

He had to bring that up, didn't he? As subtly as she could, she slid her gloves back on – she had turned them white, like Olaf's design. This topic was one she couldn't face with her bare hands.

"Yes," was her short reply. Then she suddenly imagined Anna curled up in front of the holographic player they had at home, clinging on every word that she said. Ever since the 'accident', she had always been afraid of reaching out to Anna, afraid of hurting her. But now Anna was safe, a million miles away, and the only way she could hurt her is by not speaking up right now.

"Her name is Anna," she interrupted Mike before he could inquire further. Afraid that she offended him, she glanced his way anxiously. However, he just nodded, urging her to continue. So she turned herself to the crowds once more. "She's my younger sister, the only family I've had since my parents died. I've - " Elsa twisted her fingers together "- I've always shut her out. I'd said that it was for her own good, but really, -" she wrung her hands together, "- it was for myself. I was afraid to love, and to accept it. And I just want Anna to know that I'm sorry."

Her words rung like a bell through the silence. Every neck was craned forward as all were all ears to whatever she had to say.

"There's so much that I owe her. But there's just no way I can..." she trailed off, not sure where to go with her words.

Fortunately Mike Wazowski was on the ball - it was expected, of course, since he had been in the job was ages. "Seems like you really want to go home, don't you?"

Elsa nodded, not daring to speak, lest her voice cracked and betrayed her overwhelming fear. Chanting her mantra over and over in her head, she prayed he'd take over.

"I don't mean to a stickler, Elsa, but your score compared to others, well, let's say it's just not the best" - looks like Olaf was wrong after all - "what do say of your fighting odds then?"

Mike wasn't bringing it up to damage her image - he was trying to help, but she needed to use this well. She pursed her lips, but she couldn't ignore the quiet forever.

At the back of her head, an old memory surfaced; the memory of the first ever execution she had ever witnessed. As the mayor of the District then, her father had to be present as the Peacekeepers led a man to the gallows. They had said that he had stolen from the bakery - three whole loaves. The man had been stocky and well-built, and she had wondered why he couldn't just fight the hunger and wait for the next pay, like others did. Surely he was strong enough. Her father had then pointed out to her a sickly, skinny little boy amongst the masses, whose dirty blonde hair was much like the man's. He had then told her something that she never forgot, and that was what she said right now.

"You'd surprised at what people would do for those they love."

* * *

"That was incredible!" Olaf congratulated her as she arrived back in the studio. He immediately threw a hug around her. "I knew you could do it!"

"Thank you, Olaf," Elsa said as sincerely as she could manage, when the little white man released her at last. She was still jittery, but largely, she was relieved that her part was over.

"You did well," a deep, throaty voice came from behind. She spun around. His dark eyes shone with kind affirmation. "Your sister would be proud."

"Thank you," she answered simply.

"Ooh! Ooh! Hans' on right now! Let's go watch!" Olaf was hopping around, dragging her towards the lounge. Elsa was reluctant, but she couldn't refuse in the face of the hyperactive stylist's enthusiasm. In some ways, he reminded her too much of Anna.

Hans was halfway through his interview by the time they settled down, but it was obvious that he was doing fine. He wasn't as funny as the boy from District 2, but his pleasant demeanor and droll humor kept him entertaining.

"So, Hans," the presenter in the screen said after the applause died down, "do you have any special someone back home? A girlfriend?"

Elsa grabbed the television controller, punching up the volume. She did want to hear what he had to say about her sister.

The boy hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Well, I had a few girlfriends before, but" - he shrugged- "no one special, as of now."

Elsa's eyes widened. What was he talking about? Wasn't he dating Anna? Had something happened to them on the day the trains left? Or was this some subtle message to tell his girlfriend to stop waiting for him? She scrutinize the boy carefully, suspiciously watching and waiting for his next move.

The presenter scoffed at Hans' response. "No one? A handsome lad like you? I don't believe that."

The red boy's eyes darted uncomfortably away for a moment, before he begun again, "Well, there's this one girl, but as far as I know, she sort of hates me..."

Hates him? Elsa's mind was in a whirl. Anna adored this guy! She liked him so much that it even made herself jealous! Behind the gloves, she could feel the familiar aching sensation, and she quickly clenched both hands to prevent the spread, but her fury knew no bounds. She furrowed her brows, her lips pressed in a hard line. If Hans had been playing her sister for a fool all this while, she would ensure he paid fully for it; boyfriend or no boyfriend.

"-you win the Games, she'd have no choice but start liking you back," Mike replied. Much of the audience concurred with him.

The boy swallowed nervously, folding his arms back - was it for show? - before he continued, "Actually, winning won't help in my case."

That threw Elsa off again, and this was shared by both spectators and other viewers in the lounge.

"Well, why not?" the presenter questioned curiously.

The boy reddened, and seemed reluctant, but eventually, he answered, "Because she's here too. In a matter of fact, she came with me."

* * *

**S/N:****  
****Did anyone see that last part coming? Who thought it was going to be Jack or Hiccup saying these signature lines? Because if you did, success for me!****I'm probably going to drop songs from the movies every now and then, but I hope it won't be too inappropriate and that you guys don't hate it. So, 'I See the Light' from Tangled.**

**The teal dress Elsa transforms from is much like her coronation dress, just more Capitol style. ****Up Next: Counting down starts here! For the next 2 chapters:**

_**"I said I'd think of something."**_

_**"It can't be okay. It'll never be okay."**_

_**"He was a man of his word."**_

* * *

**A/N: I got bored. So I'm just updating this now. **

**Mailbox:**

**countrygal15: King Julien would be actually fantastic for a Caesar. Wonder why I didn't think of that…but I'm not very familiar with Madgascar stuff – and the dude is really nuts. Initially, I was just going to make Elsa wear the dress from the start, but since you suggested this, and since she's probably not gonna get to transform her dress again anytime soon, I added it in as well.**

**A way to uncreative girl: Thanks! I felt a bit uneasy about it, but I'm glad you like it after all. Thanks for reviewing.**

**Okay, I'll go a get a life for maybe two more days, then I'll update.**

**Review! Ask Questions! Critique!**

**See ya later folks!**


	13. Chapter 12: A Dark Tomorrow

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 12: A Dark Tomorrow

* * *

**District 12 Living Quarters**

**12 Hours**

She only met Hans again back at their living quarters, and the minute she did, her fist met his nose.

He tumbled back, crashing into a porcelain display vase and cracking it to pieces. It was against the rules to attack a fellow tribute before the Games, but Elsa's common sense had long left the room. Shock was written all over his bloodied face, but that only made her angrier.

"How dare you." Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but her glare spoke volumes. Ice was formed below her feet, but fortunately she was moving too fast for anyone to notice. Shoving him hard again, she only drew back when she felt the familiar vibration in her palms. "How dare you pretend to like me!" She spat at him. "And how dare you break Anna's heart!"

He was crumpled like a heap on the ground, but she wouldn't have spared him at all if their mentor and stylists hadn't come rushing in. Olaf had to hold her back from going at Hans again, while the other stylist ran to the boy.

"What is the meaning of this?"cried Weselton - Weaseltown, Olaf had dubbed him appropriately - as he hoisted the boy up. "Look what you did to his nose! How do you think this is going to look on his image, hmmm? How's this going to reflect on _me_?"

"Thanks for the concern," Hans remarked with no little amount of sarcasm. His eyes darted to the furious girl who struggled in the small white man's arms. It was only the firm hold of her mentor on her shoulder that halted her endeavor.

Her brows creased at Hans as she spoke, her steely voice like a knife, "How could treat my sister like this? Can you even imagine how this would _destroy her_?"

His expression was more indignant than remorseful. "Better that she cries now than later," he replied hotly.

This would have earned him another socking in the face had Olaf not held her back again. Waiting for Elsa to calm down, Hans started again in a softer tone, "Whatever I did, I did it for Anna."

"You did it for-how-" she spluttered, rocking herself forward and back, "which part of 'destroy her' did you not understand?"

"Don't you see? No, you don't, of course." There was slight annoyance in tone. He pressed the handkerchief that Weselton had handed him against the bridge of his nose. "The Capitol loves drama; it spices up the show, keeps them hooked."

Disgust marked her usually fair countenance. "So you gave them a lie?"

"No," he disagreed, "I gave them a romance; star-crossed lovers."

"Excellent," she remarked, her voice dripping with disdain, folding her arms to prevent the temptation of punching him bloody again. "Now not only did you betray my sister, we have to pretend to be in love."

"I bought us attention, and maybe even sponsors," the boy countered, almost raising his voice. He hurriedly composed himself, but in all the time that they had spent together, Elsa had never seen him this angry.

"You know, he's right." A voice piped in. Elsa spun towards her stylist, raising an eyebrow at him. The white man explained, "From the start, only you had a rep as the 'Snow Queen', and Hans didn't have anything - sorry 'bout that." He apologised to redheaded boy.

"It's quite alright," the boy said, his voice going nasal as he squeezed his nose.

"Both your training scores aren't that great, especially Elsa's -but don't worry, I still love you," he hastily assured the stricken girl. "But now that Hans confessed that he likes you-"

"Pretended to confess," Elsa readily corrected.

"-yeah, okay, you're both are suddenly a whole lot more desirable in eyes of the public, because who doesn't eat up love stories? i.e. You guys have a better chance of getting sponsor," the stylist finished, clasping his hands together to add the flair.

"He is right, Elsa," Pabbie had added on gravely.

Elsa took time to absorb the explanation. She glanced sharply at the male tribute, who was still nursing the bruised nose. She recalled the night of the judging, and the conversation that they had.

He seemed to have read her mind. "I said I'd think of something." In his other hand, Elsa observed that he was fingering a small object - a lock of white and brown hair, a color scheme only too familiar to herself. "Maybe one of us now stand a chance of going home."

Going home to Anna. He did think of her. She was unwilling to, but she had to admit; this was genius.

Seeing that she was suitably composed now, Olaf let go of her arm. Uneasily, she headed towards Hans. He flinched away, but noting the lack of aggression, he allowed her to draw nearer.

"I'm sorry," she told him, humble enough to avoid his gaze. "I acted out of turn."

A warm smile appeared on his face as he wiped the reminder of the blood. "You just care a lot about your sister."

It added to her guilt that he was so forgiving about it. She cringed when she saw the faint blue mark on his face. "Will you be alright?"

"Oh, I'll be fine." He brushed her off lightly. "Twelve brothers, remember? Had my fair share of fistfights." That earned a tight smile from herself.

Pabbie then interrupted them. "You both should get some rest. Tonight has been exhausting, and tomorrow's a long day."

Tomorrow...was it so near? Any good spirits the teenagers had dried up like dew in the morning sun. Elsa's heart sank, and she found herself clutching her arms till they turned white.

Hans bade her goodnight, courteously as ever, and she returned it, but back in the safety of her own room, didn't hold back on the frost. The glass panes were coated with ice and even the covers of the bed had freshly formed snow lining them. She crept up onto the bed, lying herself down, but she doubted that she could sleep. The air seemed to still but the ice crackled and grew.

Tonight was not a good night.

* * *

**District 8 Living Quarters**

**11 hours**

"Young lady, you should be sleeping."

Rapunzel startled, but huffed in exasperation when she saw it was just her mentor. She raised her paint-coated hand, flicking some of the purple liquid at him.

"Hey, watch it! I just got this dry-cleaned!" The brown-haired glanced down at his vest in mock dismay. Rapunzel just threw her head back and laughed, dipping her hand into the paint, before returning to her work.

After dabbing off some of the paint, he leaned over to see the picture. "A sun?"

"Yep, I like suns," she said, splattering some white over the purple background. "A new day, a new hope, that kind of thing." Pascal, carrying a clean cloth up in his mouth, scurried up to her. She took the cloth dry of her hand, before adding fresh layer of orange over her fingers.

"I've been wanting to ask you about what you said earlier," He started conversationally. "I could have sworn you said your hair turned brown when you cut it."

"Yep," she confirmed, making orange swirls in the centre of the circle face. "And it stops growing too."

He scrunched his face, shaking his head disbelievingly. "I'm sorry, but that makes no sense."

"Nope." She shrugged cheerfully. Drawing the hair back from her ear, she showed him a single short lock of brown. "That was the first time the people at the orphanage cut my hair, and the last. "

He peered closely, still half-skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I think I would know if it started growing again," the blonde girl retorted humorously, dropping her long golden locks as she returned to painting.

Flynn-Eugene was baffled. "But why?"

"I've never known," she admitted, "some superstitious people in the home said it was a curse. The doctors said it was some pigmentation issue, or calcium deficiency. But honestly, no one really knows, and no one's dared to cut my hair ever since. Not until an explanation is found."

Unconsciously, her left hand went to stroking one of her long golden locks. "I've always thought that maybe if I'd knew why my hair is like this, then maybe...maybe I'll become 'Rapunzel Something'. Who knows? I'll even find a family." Glancing at the clock on the wall, she watched as the seconds ticked by. Ticking to the eventually finality of tomorrow. "I guess that's not happening anymore."

Her head dropped, and her body slumped back. Her right arm fell limp by the sheet. Pascal crawled over to her, squeaking softly as he rubbed his scaled head against her forearm, and she smiled at that. From the reflection of the glass cabinet across the table, she could see that her mentor was thinking of something appropriate he could say. He was supposed to a fast-talking ladies' man, but she guessed that perhaps he was lacking in the 'comforter' department. It was cute that he tried, though.

She decided to perhaps spare him a little and an idea came to mind. "So, Eugene, huh?"

"Ah, well," he just shrugged, pretending to be absorbed in examining the paint bottles. "I'll spare you the sob story of poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert. It's-" he sounded rather hesitant "-it's quite a downer."

When he spun back to her though, he found her large pupils staring at him, resting her chin on her knuckles, waiting eagerly like a child on Christmas day.

"Haha." In spite himself, he relented. Siting down beside her, he began, "I grew up in an orphanage, like you." Her eyes widened at this fact. "There was this book. A book I read to all the younger kids - _the Tales of Flynnigan Rider_! Swashbuckling rogue, richest man alive, and not bad with the ladies," – that an amused chuckle from her. To a kid who had nothing, well," he shrugged thoughtfully, "that seemed like a better option."

"But," Rapunzel was curious, "how did that lead to changing your name?"

"I'm getting to that." The man seemed a lot more nervous at this point. He inhaled, then exhaled, then continued, "When I was eight, I ran away from the orphanage and found myself a career - in thievery."

Rapunzel gasped at that, and she wished she didn't after that. He seemed hurt by her response. Trying to twist it to better angle, she asked, "Stealing's punishable by death, isn't it? Weren't you afraid?"

"I was, but I was too hard-headed to pay heed to that, " he confessed, rubbing his neck. "I got away for a few years. Became quite notorious in the neighborhood. It was kind of fun," he made a half-smile. "Until the Peacekeepers got a wind of it. I was good at running from them, but eventually they decided to wait me out at the Reapings. They knew that even I didn't dare avoid it."

His face darkened and his muscles tensed. Rapunzel wanted to ask him to stop, but he waved her away. "There was a guy I knew who worked in the Justice Building. He helped me burn up the old records of Eugene Fitzherbert - that was the person of the Peacekeepers were hunting, after all - and he helped me craft a new identity. "

"However, his help came at a price. He had five children, with only two old enough to get reaped. His terms were that I'd collect tessarae, in my new name, for all five of them. Sometimes in famine seasons, he'd make me throw my name again for more. I never got a scrape of food from the tessarae." His voice was hoarse and dry. "The first two years, nothing happened. On the third year, Flynn Rider got reaped."

Rapunzel could barely stop her eyes from welling up. When he noted the tears rolling down her cheeks, he laughed a little. "Hey, it isn't this my story? I should be the one crying," he teased. Rapunzel giggled, but it didn't stop a tear splashing onto her painting.

"Look at what you've done," he declared in mock dismay, pointing dramatically at the drop. "The sun's melting!"

She snickered at that, and it set him off as well. The tears that came were only ones of joy. The laughter fell in a sober quiet after a while.

Rapunzel broke in the silence. "It isn't okay though," she said ruefully, blending the tears into the paint. "Everything that you went through in the Games," she shook her head, " it can't be okay. It'll never be okay."

Eugene sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "True, but hey," he nudged her gently with his elbow, " it gets better. I can promise that." A moment later, he added, "You can't tell anyone about this, by the way. I could get into some serious trouble."

"Of course."

There was a comfortable lull as both of them sat shoulder to shoulder; the blonde still adding white lines around the golden sun, and her brown-haired mentor watched her at work. Using the base of her thumb, she marked the last curve, pressing the white into the purple.

"There! All done!" Her grin was triumphant.

She turned to Flynn eagerly for an opinion. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he pointed out, "Purple and yellow is weird combination."

"Eugene," she deadpanned. She was getting better spotting his jibes.

"Fine, it looks amazing. Happy?" he answered with mock disdain, but she could see he really liked it.

She told him, "You can have it." He glanced at her in askance, so she reiterated, "It's yours."

"I couldn't," he replied.

"C'mon, _you know you want it_," she sang, waving the parchment at him temptingly.

He pretended to ponder. "If you insist," he finally answered, with a false air of defeat," but only with the artist's autograph."

"Done." She promptly dipped a finger into the black pot, then scrawled her name the corner of the picture. "For the record, just so you know, I like Eugene Fizherbert better."

He pretended to be crushed. "And I've invested so much in Flynn! What does a wanted criminal hold over a victor-slash-practical-superstar?"

"Well," she replied, as she wiped her finger with the cloth, "Flynn's just a cocky, vain, self-centered airhead who cares too much about the portrayal of his nose-"

"-hey! I thought you said I was a good mentor! And my nose _is_ important!"

"-whereas Eugene is a sweet guy who 'dreams of better worlds'. He struggles to do his best, and ends up being really insecure because he thinks it's not enough, when it really is. " Her expression softened considerably as she handed him the sheet, her smile telling him the sincerity of her words.

His eyes met hers as he slowly took the painting. "Well, you're the first. I-" he returned a small smile, "I have to thank you."

Laying the painting out to dry, he told her gently, "Go catch some sleep. Maybe dream about something nice. Heaven know you need it." He muttered the last sentence darkly.

"Yeah, I will." With that, she scurried off to bed. Her heart was thumping wildly against her chest, but it wasn't in fear of the morrow to come. No, she was too distracted for that. It was horribly girlish, and possibly inappropriate given circumstances, but she had the strangest idea that he liked her. And she liked that idea.

* * *

**District 5 **

**9 Hours**

_A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth,_

She looped the yarn around the linen wraps, her fingers methodically twining and yanking down the knots. When she reached the end of row, she took the iron comb and shoved hard onto the knots, forcing them tight together. Taking the scissors, she snipped away the excess, sweeping the yarn away with the side of her foot, then she started another row.

_Mise ri d' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhàn,_

Textiles were by right the speciality of District 8, but the fabrics made there were largely functional, except the goods produced specially for the Capitol. Her own crafts were solely aesthetic and sentimental reasons. Another and the more important reason was that weaving helped her to think.

_Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a's faic,_

Everyone was very proud of Merida - Fergus had been going on to no end about it. The fact that their very own firebrand had nabbed a score higher than any Career, or anyone ever, in a matter of fact, had been the cause of much celebration in the district. There was still some tension with the Peacekeepers due to last weeks events, but largely there had been general mirth amongst the people. She held no grudge against them for doing so, but she couldn't see it the way they did - it wasn't their daughter in there, after all.

_Do thìr, dìleas féin._

She supposed a good deal of the tension in their interactions came during Merida's teen years. Being a girl born to privilege, she had felt that her daughter needed to understand the responsibilities and obligations that came accordingly. Besides victors, mayors were the only people in the districts who could have any influence- which could be extremely little - in the Capitol.

_A ghrian a's a ghealach, stiùir sinn,_

Though Merida was bright enough to comprehend the complexities of the politics, her impatience for tedious tasks and her itch for adventure led her to hunting illegally over the fence, instead of studying at her table. When she first discovered Merida's 'hobby', she had forbidden it, of course, but that led to her stubborn daughter sneaking off in secret instead. So in the end it became an unspoken truce between them that Merida could hunt as long as she did her work as well.

_Gu uair ar cliù 's ar glòir,_

Strangely enough, the District approved of Merida's moonlight activities when they discovered it. Perhaps it was largely due to her daughter's 'Robin Hood' tendencies in giving away the game - their home was wealthy enough to afford it. It made her a kind of local heroine, and in a little way, the neighborhood rebel to the harsh rule of the Capitol. Was that what Merida saw herself as? Or, was it something that she aspired to be? If her daughter had discussed this with her, Elinor would have argued firmly and convincingly that rebellion would result in nothing but severe punishment - the destruction of District 13 was evidence for that. History with the Capitol had spoken in favor of the compliant, but Merida could only know that if she had actually paid attention in her classes.

_Naoidhean bhig, ar rìbhinn òg,_

She supposed that given Merida's cunning and her desire to break free, the Hunger Games became her chosen path, and perhaps her daughter was right that it was the only way. But was it wise?The Games were fail-safed - there was no winning. Regardless of the glory and riches heaped on the victor, it couldn't be denied that the Capitol would take what was innocent and corrupt them. Merida was determined enough to fight for her freedom, and yes, she could very well earn it, but would she be willing to pay the price her freedom would cost?

_Maighdean uasal bhàn._

If it were up to herself, Elinor would have her daughter never know that answer.

* * *

**District 2 **

**8 Hours **

At times, he was a splitting image of his mother; he had her lean figure, her soft brown hair. If he wasn't always so caught up in trying to perfect his son, perhaps Stoick Haddock of the Peacekeeper District would have noted that Hiccup also inherited both her intelligence, and her awkwardness.

The tale of him and his beloved had been largely a controversial one, and it had remained so until tragedy took her from his side. Besides the issue of her origins, she had questioned far too much and accepted too few of the answers - not the expected the behavior of the mayor's wife, especially the mayor of the Capitol's pet district . Victor or not, she had faced a great deal opposition by the District 2 citizens, his council, and the ruling city itself, which advised his resignation from his post should he go forward with his marriage. But the Stoick the Vast was known for his stubbornness and he had made no regrets about marrying a woman of science.

The fireplace was glowing dim and steady, and he placed the freshly-carved wooden figure amongst the others above. He was about to return to his seat when his eyes strayed to a crude-made plush dragon that sat on the shelf.

Gingerly, he lifted it from its place, beating off the dust and soot that had settled on it. His wife had made it for Hiccup many years back, but the boy had been so afraid of it that it was never played with.

She had always feared for the boy's health - he was born prematurely, and got ill too easily and too often. However, he had been confident that Hiccup not only would grow to be strong lad, he'd be a doer of great things.

He wished that he still had that confidence.

The boy's interview had unearthed many disturbing questions: had he cared for the boy too much, or too little? Had his interactions with Hiccup always been so full of disappointment? Was his relationship with his only son so strained that the boy would only voice his griefs on television the night before he was carted off to imminent death?

Indeed, Stoick held no illusions about what the Games entailed. It was taught to the children of the District that being a tribute was a great honor - it was the basis on which their fighting nature was founded. Even as a boy, he had believed it himself. But Hiccup? Hiccup was not that boy.

Tomorrow would be all cheer and feasting as the district celebrated yet another year of gory Games. But there was nothing that their mayor would celebrate this year.

He had already lost his son the day he lost his wife. And come tomorrow, he'd lose the boy who looked like Valka.

* * *

**District 12**

**7 Hours**

A glow from the window is what sent him running over to the Arendelle house.

He had been working overnight at the Hob and was on his way back from when he saw it. He knew that Elsa - and many thrifty residents of the Seam - had a rule about conserving candlelight, and he knew the current lone resident of that house usually didn't do night hours. An open flame and a sleeping girl could result in hazardous consequences, after all.

A knock on the front door earned no response, so he opted for ignoring propriety and entered. He didn't even need to break in, since it wasn't even locked.

He found her hunched over a clay plate, muttering to herself as she drew the patterns its side. The cracked pieces of previous attempts sitting at her feet didn't escape his notice.

"What are you doing here?" She sniffled, dragging her marker across the plate as she drew up the lines and curves. In the dim candlelight, he observed that both her eyes and nose were still red, with a faint red scratches on her face, which he could only assume were the results of some fierce nose-wiping.

"I knocked," he answered simply, settling down opposite her.

She sniffed. "Oh, so you just barged in my home because it's okay to do that?"

He felt slightly peeved at her bitterness, but he pressed on, "Well, one, you didn't lock the front door." That earned a snort from her. "Two, YOU aren't okay."

"I'm in perfect mint-condition!" She almost shouted at him, before the plate slipped from her lap and crashed on the wooden floor, smashed to pieces.

"Great." With an annoyed huff, she swept the pieces away with side of her foot.

"You should get some rest," he told her, as he watched the pieces being scornfully cast aside.

She wiped her nose roughly, sniffing. "So what? You're my sister now?" Kicking one offending piece of clay, she got up, heading to the pile of clay plates. She muttered furiously, combing her hair back as she did, "Elsa was always the prettier one, the smarter one. Even my parents used to say so." She snatched up a blank plate. "I was totally okay with that - really, I can live with being the 'spare'! It's just that she always had girls dying to be her friend, and boys dying to be her valentine, but_ no!"_ She slammed herself back on the floor, edging the candle closer to herself. Biting off the cap of the marker, she held it between her teeth as she ranted, "She never wanted the company, whereas _I_, on the other hand,"- she spat the cap out -"wanted nothing more than a connection. Anything! Didn't get it from _them_, didn't get it from my _sister_!"

Kristoff shook his head pityingly at the girl. The week had taken a toil on her, obviously. It wasn't school that bothered her; classes had been largely on hold because of the Games. As for work-wise, Anna had been handling sales surprisingly well, thanks to her ferocity in bargaining. But the waiting had been difficult, and Kristoff feared that come morning, Anna's nerves would be permanently severed.

"I thought Hans understood, especially with his 'twelve older brothers' problem," she whimpered, her voice dropping an octave. Then her mouth curled into a frown. "But he had too like her too. And he didn't even acknowledge me! 'A few girlfriends'! Yeah, I love the cameo!" She scraped the poor marker across the plate, nearly ripping of its nib in process. "So much for open doors." She sniffed again.

It was against his personal interest to defend Captain Sideburns, but Kristoff put in, "You know, maybe it's just for show." Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - she wasn't listening. Kristoff sighed. He knew if he didn't stop her soon, Anna was going to work herself up in a frenzy. Maybe she was already in one, considering all the personal details he was getting.

Abruptly, she asked him, "How old are you?"

He blinked. "Eighteen."

"Huh." She snorted. "You actually look older."

"I was at the Reaping. How old can I be?"

She sniffed, ignoring his remark. "You like Elsa, don't you?"

That caught him off guard, and he hesitated before answering, "She's a nice person."

"You know I don't mean it that way," Anna drawled irritably, staring daggers at the plate. "Why else do you keep coming over and stuff?"

Kristoff opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. He was really amazed at how she hadn't figured it out yet. Was she blind, or was he so bad at communicating? "Well, your sister isn't here now, is she?"

Anna didn't pick it up at all. "You're just doing her a favor. Looking out for the kid sister." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, brushing off the dust from her lap before continuing the design.

That wasn't a false statement. On reaping day, just as the farewell session was ending and Peacekeepers were dragging them off, Elsa had yanked him over. She had pleaded, "Look after her. Please."

He had reassured her, "You needn't have asked."

She had searched his eyes and relaxed. The Peacekeepers had dragged him away after that.

He was a man of his word.

"You need to sleep, Anna."

"Why? So that I can wake up tomorrow, knowing that my sister and my so-called boyfriend are entering a fight to death?" She snapped, pressing the marker hard against the clay surface. The excessive pressure caused the ceramic disc to slip from her fingers, clattering to floor, splattering once again.

"Well, so that you can at least stop wasting candlelight, and breaking decent plates," he retorted, folding his arms. He liked Anna - he honestly did, but she could be very trying. Glancing at the mess, he made his mind. "Alright, you're sleeping over at my place."

"What!" She stamped a foot on the broken fragments, cracking it further.

"We've got a couch by the fireplace, big enough for you," he went on as if she hadn't spoken, "my mum won't mind, and you definitely shouldn't stay here alone." He grabbed her coat off the rack, rolled into a ball and threw it at her.

She caught it deftly, but she still looked mad. "I can look after myself fine, _thank you_."

"Sure you can," he murmured dryly. Throwing her boots over and casting a pair of gloves, he said, "Get dressed. It's cold outside."

"You can't make me go anywhere," she called out sullenly. "_Hey!_"

He picked her up by the waist and ungracefully swung her body over himself, such that her stomach rested on his shoulder. He was much larger than herself, and any kicks and punches she threw at him were as fruitful as swatting a tree trunk.

Blowing out the candle, he carried her out of the house, ignoring her yelling. He remembered to lock the doors before dragging her off down the road.

"You'll thank me later, feisty pants," he told her, not caring if the neighbors woke up due to her shrieks and curses.

He had promised Elsa that he'd look after her sister, but he hadn't specified how.

* * *

**S/N: **

**Hope y'all enjoyed the fresh POVs from Elinor, Stoick and Kristoff! **

**I hope Eugene's backstory in this AU makes sense. **

**The painting Rapunzel did here is the picture of the sun against a purple backing, same as the one she painted on the ground during the Kingdom Dance scene in Tangled.**

**'Noble Maiden Fair' here. If you're starting to get annoyed by songs, chill. I'm not going to make it happen every chapter, no matter the temptation.**

**Hiccup's plush dragon mentioned is from a 'Riders of Berk' episode. More about his mother would be revealed in the future.**

**If you're curious about what Anna's doing, she's actually marking out rosemaling designs on clay plates before painting them. As mentioned in chap 2, selling such plates and other decorated material is how she and Elsa made a living in this AU.**

**Does anyone notice Kristoff is kind of a 'Gale' figure? I didn't realize till I finished writing this.**

**Up Next: The Countdown end, and the Games begin.**

_**"-she needed him as much as he needed her-"**_

_**"-keep them from seeing the monster I am-"**_

_**-I've been waiting all year for this!"**_

* * *

**A/N:**

**AliceInNeverland95: Yes The surprise worked! Huzzah! Actually King Julian would work, I just realised...ah well, too late now. I'm not to familiar with the Madgascar franchise, but maybe next time I'll consider him again when I need a crazy character.**

**A way to uncreative girl: Win for me again! Glad you still enjoyed this chapter.**

**NaomilovesJelsa: It's not Helsa. I can promise that. I however cannot promise what they WON'T do during the games to save their own lives.**

**mariemarc: I'm glad you like this story but serious (whispers in ear) did you have the give spoilers. Kidding, actually everything's pretty obvious. BTW: You should recount the no. of people you listed. There are too many on your list. Don't worry about your syntax, it's really quite fine. I've seen English-speaking writer's do way worst.**

**Riverfall: Thank you! It was a bit difficult to put in some characters in the THG story (especially Rapunzel. LOL the whole orphan story was not from either disney or THG), but I'm glad you find it okay. I'm glad Merida's portrayal was convincing enough for you. Out of all the characters, I feel she's the one who can undergo the most transformation in this story, but honestly, all of them will. Yeah, Jack needs development. I hope eventually when I hit all his trademark scenes in this story, everything about him would make sense.**

**Guest: Congratulations on your guess. I hate you now. (Not really. Well come back in two seconds. Okay I'm done.)**

**ElvisRules41: So now that you've read his explanation, do you feel a teeny bit more merciful? He's not that bad... well, maybe.**

**Thanks for reading folks!  
Review! Ask Questions! Critique!**


	14. Chapter 13: Countdown

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 13: Countdown

* * *

**District 10****  
****2 hours**

"Emma, come for breakfast."

The girl ignored her mother's call as she focused on the task at hand. Neatly folding back the pile of clothes and slipping it into the drawer, she shut it, and went om to the next one.

"Emma! You don't want to be late for school, do you?"

Her mother spoke of it not as a suggestion, but as a reminder. Everyone had to watch the Games - there was no arguing on that. Since they were too poor to own their own television set, they had to watch it in public areas - in Emma's case, school.

She pouted at the thought. She had never liked school that much, and this only made her hate it more. She wished her mother could call in sick for her, but that would mean that she would have to see the doctor, and that would mean that Ma would had to pay medical bills. She needed to be responsible now, and responsible meant saving money.

It was on in third drawer that she finally found the object she sought for. Flapping it loose and draping it over her shoulders, she kicked the drawer shut, before dashing out to the kitchen, which also served as their dining room. Two lunch pails sat on the table, and she slid into a chair near them. She cast a sad glance at the bigger pail.

"Ma?" She called for the taller lady, who was gingerly transferring a pancake from the pan to the plate, then place it in front of her. Emma quickly gave thanks and started eating, savoring every bit. Wheat was hard to come by in their district, so wheat pancakes were a rare treat.

"Wait, Emma," her mother halted her, before sprinkling just a little sugar on top of the pancake. "There. Now enjoy."

"Thanks, Ma." She dug in again, but she still needed let her mother know. "Um, Ma?"

"Yes, dear?" Her mother added a pancake to her own plate, before settling down herself. She handed Emma a glass of milk, and poured herself another glass. "Drink up."

"Ma," Emma said more firmly. The elder woman finally raised her head. Now that her mother was paying attention, she tapped the larger lunch pail sitting on the table.

The woman's face paled as she slowly understood. "Oh. I just forgot, I suppose." Mulling over it for a moment, she sighed, telling her daughter, "You might as well bring it down to school to share. It won't keep."

"Alright, Ma," Emma said, swallowing down the last bit of pancake. When her mother wasn't looking, she ran her finger over the plate, scraping up the last of the sugar before popping it into her mouth. Unfortunately, her mother glanced at her at the last moment.

"Emma, take your hands out of your mouth." Her chiding lacked her usual fervor, but Emma meekly did as she was instructed. She then took the plate and the empty glass to the sink, stepping on the little stool they had there, then washed then both thoroughly. Unconsciously, she handed the plate to her right, but there was no one there to take it. Sighing, she hopped off the stool, then shifted it over to drying rack. With the large rag in her small hands, she did her best to dry them all, stacking them up after she did.

"You'd best be going now," Ma told her, so she returned the rag and the stool to their usual place, jumping off, half-expecting to be caught up halfway and flung in the air. But none of it came.

When she went over to pick up the pails, she found her mother staring at her. Dropping to her knees, her mother fingered with the brown poncho the girl carried on her shoulders.

"Oh Emma," she whispered, shaking her head. "It's too big for you."

It was true; the poncho was practically sweeping the floor from where she was standing. But Emma insisted, "Ma, I want to wear it."

Her mother sighed and gave in. "Alright."

Ma then saw her to the door, as she shuffled her way through the snow. She hated shoveling snow, but if she wanted to help out at home, she would have take on this duty too. That would be the right thing to do.

Halfway to the road, she involuntarily peered behind her, expecting a snowball flying her way any moment. But nothing came.

She trudged on, with a lunch pail on each arm, one just a little too large for her.

* * *

**45 minutes**

"_This is it folks! In less than hour, we will be bringing you the live telecast of the 74__th__ Annual Hunger Games. Isn't that right, Sully?"_

"_Absolutely, Mike. All of you out there; count your odds and place your bets! Times's running short, so you better be quick."_

"_Hey, Sully, it's gonna pretty tough to pick who to bet on this year, don't you think?"_

"_Absolutely. There're quite a number of nines and tens, even one eleven!"_

"_Our favourite Head Gamemaker, Pitch Black, has also promised us quite an intriguing arena this year. I wonder why…"_

"_Does it matter? With this stellar set of tributes and an interesting arena, folks, grabs your chairs and sit tight! Coz' this is a game to die for…"_

* * *

**30 minutes****  
**  
"Shh, it's okay."

He caressed her golden head gently, his heart wrenching at every sob she made. He was glad that they had been early enough to catch the elevator empty. It would have been bad for her image if any other tributes saw her right now. Not that her image was an immediate concern.

He had been in the same spot before, scared out his wits. His mentor had been no great comforter, and he knew he wasn't either, but he swore that he would be there for his mentee - this mentee, at least, even if that meant giving a shoulder to cry on. Literally.

"I'm gonna die," her muffled voice came through the tears, and his coat. It was genuine leather and cost a fortune, but he didn't really care if she ruined it. It didn't matter. In a matter fact, nothing mattered other than the fact that this incredibly bright, beautiful girl was in his arms, and she was bawling her eyes out.

"No, you're not," he told her firmly, despite his own doubts, holding her closer. He glanced up at the screen above the doors. There were only ten floors to go, then the Peacekeepers would take her to the ships.

"Blondie." He drew her back, holding her at arms' length, looking straight into her eyes. "The others are strong, but you're no push-over. You've got darts, you've got hair. You can do this." She seemed unconvinced, with tears still streaming down her cheeks. Brushing back the blonde strands falling over her face, he reminded her, "You're stronger than you look. You said it yourself."

She shook her head disbelievingly, her lip trembling. "I'm not going to make it."

"Yes, you are," he contradicted. Fishing through his pockets, he handed her a little brooch, shaped like a sun. "The Corona's told me to give you this. I told them you liked suns. Said it belonged to their daughter, or something."

She forgot her fears for a moment, examining the ornament's craft. Small, clear crystals studded its surface, making the little sun seem to glow in her palm.

"Suns are all about hope, right?" He went on, as he wiped the droplets off her face. "Well, the Coronas put their hope in you. I've put my hope in you. You need to start putting some hope in yourself. Promise me, Blondie."

"I can't," she protested weakly, a stray tear tumbling down.

"You have to try. Promise me."

She gulped, bravely holding it back, her fearful green eyes meeting his assuring brown ones. "I…I promise."

The elevator halted. They were here.

"Don't worry about the reptile. I'll care for him," he assured her, as the doors swept open. "You look after yourself."

She nodded, with dread and determination written over her face.

The Peacekeepers were waiting at the door, but he decided waiting a little more wouldn't kill them. On a moment of impulse, he drew her back in a fierce embrace.

"I'll be waiting at the finish line," he whispered, barely able to keep his voice from cracking. Reluctantly letting her go, the Peacekeepers took her by the arms, and led her away. Her gleaming blonde braid was the last he saw before the doors shut.

He grimaced, laughing bitterly at himself. This is why he ignored his last few mentees. He couldn't bear getting to know them, and then watching them all die in bloody battle. With Rapunzel, he broke too many of his own rules and let her get too close.

And now? He cared too much, and he was paying for it.

The metal box started up again, shooting upwards. It would take him to back to the city, where he could view the Games from the millions of screen all over the streets.

He could choose to ignore them, like what he did before; abandon her to her sad but inevitable end. But right now, he knew that was no longer an option. If she had to be in there, he would be there for her, right here.

Because he knew that she needed him as much as he needed her.

* * *

**20 minutes****  
**  
Find a bow. Find a bow.

It had become practically a mantra, but really, it was but a wish. What if they decided spite her, and not put a bow in? Or if they did, would they'd put it close to the Horn? She knew too well about the notorious Cornucopia that marked the centre of each arena - it was the honey that attracted the flies to the web.

She groaned in annoyance as she set her red curls back against the metal-plated seats. All these thoughts were killing her - and in less than hour, they very well might.

Discouraged by her pondering, she scanned the cabin around her. There were still other tributes being loaded up the hovercraft. She counted twelve in total, which suggested that there was another hovercraft carrying the same number to the arena as well.

She leaned back, placidly observing the company surrounding her. It was a pity that the District 11 girl - her name was Van? Val? - wasn't here, because Merida would have welcome her cheeky spunk right now. Wee Dingwall wasn't present either, so there was no one whom she could heap her disgust onto right now. Or her nervousness.

Instead, she found herself under the careful scrutiny of the boy from District 1, the hardened glare from the District 2 girl and the amused smirk of the boy from District 4. The attentions of the Career Pack were rather disturbing, and she found herself reluctantly squirming under their collective gazes. However, her fingers went to the pin on her collars and she breathed in deeply. She'd challenge them all, and she'd take them down. She could do this, if only she kept telling herself so.

"Your arm." She swung around, finding a Capitol attendant standing with a large needle gun in front of her.

The attendant repeated, "Your arm."

Obeying, Merida lifted her left arm to the lady. The attendant then slid the needle into her skin, and Merida observed as a glowing blue bead flow from gun into her arm. She asked, slightly anxious, "What's that?"

The attendant didn't answer, and simply moved on the next tribute. Merida stuck her tongue at the attendant when her back was turned, before peering closely at the scar on her arm again.

"Hey, genius."

She didn't know how she knew that was meant for her, but she did, and she glanced up.

Sitting opposite her was the spiky-haired boy from District 3. His arms were folded and his shoulders swung back. Merida half-envied how relaxed he seemed. He shot her a playful grin.

"That's your tracker." He nodded at his own left arm. "Gamemakers don't want to lose you in the arena." Merida looked down her arm again, trying to trace the location of the bead.

Raising her head again, she noted that the boy wore a metal armband on his injected arm - his token, she suspected. It was plain silver, but Merida could see that there were many intricate cravings made around it. They seemed rather odd to her, but she supposed that they meant something to the boy of the technological district.

"Nice armband," she complimented out loud without meaning to. From the corner of eye, she was uneasy that the Careers still appeared interested in whatever she had to say.

The boy didn't seem offended, but Merida couldn't help noting the shadow that passed over his face. "Thanks," he replied grimly. "It's my brother's."

* * *

**5 minutes****  
**  
"No gloves?"

"It's standardized attire for all tributes - which is why they're so unfashionable,"-Olaf sniffed with disapproval, "-and sometimes gloves are considered an advantage in the Games. C'mon-" he spun her around as he slipped the loose fitting overcoat over her shoulders. It was thin, but warm, like the black pants and shirt she had been given. The boots were only half-way up her calf, while her hands were obviously bare.

She rubbed her pale fingers against each other, her nervousness turning to anxiety. "But Olaf, I can't do this without gloves."

"Sure you can," the stylist disagreed confidently, "You did it in the parade, You sort of did it yesterday too. You can do it today."

The parade was an hour, and possible the longest she had ever done. The interview was less than thirty seconds. Both times she was protected by a cover story, but this time? She had run out of masks.

"Do you really know why I wear gloves, Olaf?" she asked impatiently - too impatiently, to the point that it was almost angry.

"Errr...,"Olaf raised his finger at her, about to answer, but stopped to ponder instead, hanging his mouth open as he did. "I think so?"

"No, you don't," Elsa snapped with sudden fury. "You're just a naive simpleton who thinks everything's okay. And that's fine for you because you're born in the Capitol and you've never had to get reaped!"

The stylist had taken several steps back during her outburst, shock plainly displayed on his face. That was when she knew she had gone too far. Collapsing into a steel chair, she buried her face in her hands, but soon after she had to pull her hands away. Her misplaced anger had taken form in frost pattern in her hands, so she stuffed her glowing palms into her hoodie pockets.

After what felt like years, the little man broke the silence. "I know you're stressed but that was harsh."

"I know." She hung her head guiltily, not meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He was the one of nicest people she had ever met in the Capitol - correction, one of nicest people ever. And here she was, lashing out her fears and frustration at this sweet little man. Why did she keep doing this to those who cared about her?

Olaf seemed to accept the apology, but he still appeared troubled. "Maybe I don't understand a lot of things, Elsa," he glanced down at his own wiry hands, "but when you are wearing something like gloves all the time, it just shows that you're hiding."

"But hiding is good," she argued, though her words felt like the hollow echoes of what she had repeated to herself constantly. "It keep others safe." - she hugged herself around her stomach, the volume dropping several notches - "It keeps people from seeing me as the monster I am."

Olaf was quick to insist, "You're not a monster."

Elsa only shifted her body away, balling her palms into fists. "The minute I enter the arena, you'll change your mind."

Still, the stylist shook his head. "You're wrong, Elsa," he said, as he bent over to where she was, helping her to fasten her coat right. "You're brave, and smart, and loyal. You love your sister very much. You honor your parents. You're nice to me - well, most of the time," he edited after a moment. "But you're a good person Elsa." When he pulled back, she was realized what he had just attached the pin to her shirt collar - the crocus coal-craft pin that Anna had given to her as a parting gift.

This was all for her sister, and that made it worth it.

A beep and whirr announced the opening of tubes. This transparent little lift, small enough for only one, would transport her straight into the lion's mouth.

"Last hug!" Olaf squealed, before folding his arms around her. Almost instantly, he jumped back, shivering. "Brrr! I usually like warm hugs, but you're way too cold."

She winced, shrouding back. "Sorry."

Olaf shrugged. "Hey, it's cool. The hot, the cold, they're both so intense. Put them together, it just makes sense."

She smiled at his little rhyme, but it faded when she slipped into the tube. At once, the doors shut behind her, and she felt the plate below herself rising up.

Against her will, she could feel her hands burning bright blue, so she began muttering, "Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Don't feel, don't feel..."

* * *

**2 minutes**

He honestly anticipated much in this year's Games. He had invested so much into its creation and design, and he was certainly fortunate to have such an interesting cast of players. These Games were filled so much mystery and excitement that he wondered how would he ever design the third quarter quell at this rate.

It was the administrative aspects that bored the tears out of him.

"The tributes are all the tubes, Sir," one of the Gamemakers behind the desk told him.

"Well, then send them up, you idiot," he snarled bitingly, causing the Gamemaker to jump to work immediately. One of the morons finally decided to switch on the holographic projector and show the panoramic view of the Arena. So he ascended the stairs, to the dais that stood above the entire Game room. He took the moment to soak in the both his masterpiece, and the work that went behind its creation.

He smirked with pride as he watched the millions of pieces of his plans fall together, rolling as smooth as the gears of clock. On the upper screens, there were twenty-four glowing names listed. Less the five minutes from now, most of them would disappear.

"All cameras are in place, sir," a Gamemaker told him.

"Televisions in all district public squares are live and functioning," another informed.

"Permission to start the countdown, sir?" A Gamemaker asked, his finger poised over the fatal button.

Pitch narrowed his brows at the last one, causing the room to still for a moment as all readied themselves for a coming rage. However, the pale man simply threw his head back and cackled.

"Why, of course!" he exclaimed, a deep grin carved onto his gray face. "I've been waiting all year for this!"

He watched with wicked excitement as the tributes rose to the surface, into the beautiful gameboard that he crafted so specially for them.

Oh boy, was he going to have fun.

* * *

**60 seconds**

The first thing Jack saw was white, searing his pupils like razors. Eventually, his eyes adjusted to brightness and color poured into vision.

His pulse was racing and his muscle tensed up. He shook his arms and legs, trying to drive of the anxiety. He needed to focus.

The first thing he observed was the enormous metal structure shaped like a horn in front of him; the Cornucopia. As Bunnymund had explained to him, the best weapons and survival material were all within the Horn itself. While there were many weapons and food stuff scattered around the Horn as well, their effectiveness and usefulness decreased with increased distance from the arena centre.

Five steps to his right there was a plastic bag, and ten steps to his left a flashlight. No food stuff in immediate vicinity.

His attentions were then shifted to the terrain. He was puzzled by the many different landscapes that he saw around him. Behind him, he could see a snowy, hilly terrain, with orderly aligned frost-covered pine trees, but across the arena he noted that there were thick tangled of greyish-green shrubs and trees growing on rocky ground. On his left he saw red and yellow leaves falling from maples and oaks, and on his right he saw lush, green birches and willows mixed with flower-growing shrubs.

Then it suddenly made sense; the arena was divided into the four seasons.

He had to admit it was rather elaborate, even by Capitol standards. Many of the previous years' games usually just had one terrain, but this year had four? That was quite remarkable.

He noted that the grounds of the Cornucopia were none of the terrains, just green grass against blue sky. However, he observed that twelve huge stones, all oblong rectangular blocks, stood evenly spaced in a circle outside that of the tributes, such that every three stones marked each quarter.

It was only now that his brain registered the counting that was going on. It was already forty seconds, and he could fill a building stress in the tributes around him.

He scanned all them quickly, his eyes only stopping when they met those of his District mate. She was standing in front of the spring quarter, in between the gigantic tribute from District 11, and the small boy from District 3. She gave him a nod in acknowledgement, then jerked her head behind her, indicating that she wanted them to meet at her position. He nodded as well to show he understood. It was a long run, but he calculated if he swung back and ran outside the circle of stones, he could easily meet her in the spring quarter. As they had agreed earlier, neither of them would take anything from the Horn.

He forced himself to take deep breaths as the voice of James 'Sully' Sullivan – the other presenter of the Games, whose fame was only matched by Mike's - read the numbers in descending order. He shut eyes for a moment, allowing the cool breeze behind him to sooth his nerves. He imagined that Emma watching him, her huge brown eyes fixed to the screen, whispering quietly, "I believe, I believe..."

He opened his eyes, exhaling slowly. He had to believe in himself. Believe, and _not die_.

* * *

**30 seconds****  
**  
Hiccup would have thrown up by now if he hadn't known about the mines attached to bottom of the plate.

It was a safety precaution. There were mines at the bottom of each tribute's plate, set to go off should any of them step of the plate before the countdown was complete. Unfortunately, the mechanism was non-discriminatory, as discovered by a sad District 3 tribute some years back who had dropped her token off the plate at twenty seconds. Her plate had exploded promptly, and so did she.

His odds of survival were already minuscule - he didn't to shrink them any further.

He had already worked out his plan; run forward, grab as much stuff as he can, ran back to the place behind him right now. He hoped that the harsh, rocky terrain would deter anyone from chasing him down, especially the Career Pack.

Frankly, he felt that he didn't really need to worry about them to much. From what he observed, it seems that the Careers have already set their sights on the District 5 girl - the one that got a smack eleven for her training score. Obviously, they must have agreed to take down the strongest first, but taking out any weak stragglers along the way was still do-able.

His eyes fell on the only blonde of the Careers. Her bright blue eyes were narrowed forward, her back arched front with her weight on her front foot. Her expression was deadly calm, as it often was before battle.

He had often remarked dryly that she wouldn't come near him even if she was on fire and he had the only bucket of water in the world. However, right now, he hoped against all hope that she'd stay away from him. He wanted his last memory of to be this; the bold, beautiful shield-maiden he had admired from afar growing up; not as the axe-murderer who was going to break his bones, chop up his ribs and rip out his entails.

He huffed. He had to give himself that thought, didn't he?

A loud noise startled him off his plate. Snapping eyes shut automatically, he was surprised that he wasn't blown to pieces at that moment.

Daring a peek out, he realized that everyone was already ran off the plates.

He was slightly peeved. He had to miss it, didn't he?

Picking his bony self, he sprinted forward with the little speed he had.

The Games had begun.

* * *

**S/N:****  
****It's here at last. Scream! ****Btw, I wrote this chapter during my vacation on my phone too. So… I wrote a total of four chapters on my phone. Completely.**

**Just as Mike is Caesar in this story, Sully is Cladius Templeton (if you don't know, it's the other weird looking presenter in the Games that doesn't go on stage).**

**The Four Season design of the Arena was inspired by the Catching Fire Arena, and also because I didn't want to do the generic forest.****  
****This also pays tribute (hah the pun) one of the most common AUs of the Big Four (which was before Frozen came out) - 'the Guardians of the Seasons' AU, which lots of fanart and fanfiction are based on.**

**The circle of stones that surround the tributes are the Callanish stones, the same ones from Brave, but in the movie I think there are only eleven stones, compared to this one which has twelve.**

**From now on, I'll be refering to each season-based section of the arena as Quarters e.g. Spring Quarter, Summer Quarter, in all POVs to prevent confusion, even though in real life, people would give things different names.****  
**

**In you didn't understand the explanation in the chapter…**

**Clarification for the Arena Design:**

**Imagine the entire Arena as a big circle and divide it into even four quarters. Each quarter has a different season, and all seasons are in consecutive order; Summer, Spring, Autumn, Winter. So Summer is opposite Winter, and Autumn opposite Spring. Duh much, eh?**

**Then imagine a smaller circle drawn in the centre of the arena – this is the Cornucopia grounds, which has no particular season, just grass. This smaller circle is marked by the twelve Callanish stones. Every set of three stones is facing a different quarter. **

**Then within the smaller circle is the smallest circle, where all the tributes are standing along at the Countdown, then the Horn is right at the centre.**

**Up Next: Bloodbath Part 1 &amp; 2.**

**No quotes, but I think 'gloveless-and-frightened Elsa' should give you enough anticipation material.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Thank you everyone for your responses. For the last two chapters, I guess the most discussed character has been Hans. To be perfectly honestly, I like the guy, but not because I think he's secretly a nice guy or anything, but because I think he's really cunning and diabolical. Throughout the entire Frozen, he managed to twist every single event to his favor just to win, while pulling off a façade of nice-ness. I have to admire that of a villain. **

**Btw, if it seems like I'm posting stuff really fast, it may be due to my desire to finish this story as quickly as possible. Not because I want to, but when New Year comes, I won't be able to update so frequently anymore, so yeah… I should actually go and do my holiday homework…urgh…**

**Mailbox: **

**A way to uncreative girl: I'm really glad you like this chapter. I actually liked this chapter a lot too, but largely because of the parents' POVs. Is that odd? **

**SmilingStarcat: Considering the numerous parallels I keep making in this story, I think how I twist Hans into this story will be interesting enough (yes, he's a douchebag, and fanfiction should not redeem him. He's better that way), and I hope that what I do with Jack would be equally so too. You got your wish! The arena is largely forest alright, but I hope the four season design piques your interest. **

**ElvisRules41: Hans is so crushed by your lack of love for him - nah, I don't care about what Hans feels. I loved writing Kristoff – he's so inappropriate sometimes, but he knows what to do.**

**Guest: Thank you! I notice I still make lots of slip up and I do edit it, just that I'm too lazy upload the edited versions. I'm glad it's still largely readable though.**

**NaomilovesJelsa: No don't die! My hands are equipped with defribrilators! (If you don't get this ref, it's fine) Okay, glad everything is okay. **

**mariemarc44: Thank you for your really long review! I'm glad you like Eugene's story – it was a headache, alright. I never really saw Hans/Peeta a parallel either, actually…I just added that part to shock everyone, but I didn't notice the obvious. Okay, it actually has relevance to the story, but that's later. Am I not giving Jack enough screentime? Oops, but don't worry about Jack – his role in this story is quite different from the others, and it maybe even weird, but definitely important. I only hope that when I reveal how he fits, it would be mind-blowing! (or at least it just wouldn't suck to badly ),****As for who will be saved, I'll just tell you the right word is 'including'. ****Well, both Katniss and Merida carry bows, so it's not that surprising – that's why so many fanarts usually place Merida in District 12, but not me. She lacks the sister.**

**GameboyNingaUltimate Icarus: Thank you! I really want this to be a good Hunger Games story, but I'm not sure if you would like the deviations I'm gonna make, because they are HUGE, but hopefully it stays faithful to the spirit. Urgh, I dunno. Can't promise anyone not dying, not even Elsa. I'm not actually a huge fan of Jelsa, but because some of it would fit well in this story.**

**salazar sassmaster: I'm glad you like this story. I can't promise to finish it, because I really never got past finishing a story of 8 chapters. But I really hope that I'll finish it. **

**Awsomaniatica: I'm glad you liked their interview parts, but my biggest worry with all of them is that actually they all ended up talking about home (except Rapunzel, who didn't have much of one) - because I'm hopeless cheesy that way. I liked writing from the home point of view. In the movie - when they were doing the countdown and showed the reactions of those in District 12 – I thought it was one of the best parts. **

**Thanks for reading folks! **

**Review! Critique! Ask questions! **


	15. Chapter 14: Bloodbath Part 1

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 14: Bloodbath Part 1

* * *

**Note: T for Violence and Death**

* * *

_Get the bow. Get the bow.__  
_  
The ringing of the gong still vibrated in her head, though its sounding had long past. Her boots beat against the grass, her curls flying back like a cape, her chest heaving violently as she plunged forward.

Many of the tributes had already begun picking up weapons from the ground and fighting. At the corner of her eye, she noted as two redheaded boys struggling against each other. The larger was obviously stronger, but the smaller wielded a sword, and he was good at it.

She pressed on. There was no time to waste.

Before the games begun, she had already spotted her prize located just outside the Horn, facing the Autumn Quarter. She unfortunately started at the Summer Quarter, which means she had some running to do.

A whizzing sound warned her in time of an attack, and she ducked. Whipping her head around, she noted the District 1 girl squinting in her direction, with her arm poised high as she readied another dagger. However, a cry near the spring quarter distracted the dark-haired girl, and she promptly sped off instead.

Stopping to grab a small black pouch along the way, Merida dashed across the grass, refusing to let the growls and shrieks get to her. She kept a weather eye for anymore Careers though. They were out to get her, after all.

_Get the bow. Get the bow._ That's all that mattered.

As she approached the side of the Horn that faced the Autumn Quarter, she was appalled by the view of the District 6 boy sitting on the chest of a small weak boy, laughing maniacally as he tightened his grip around the latter's neck. A large mace sat at his foot, but the District 6 boy had obviously chosen the method of execution for the suffering it would inflict rather than its speed.

She forced the bile down as she kept running.

She skidded to a stop when she reached her destination; in front of a black box, a bow and quiver lay. She swung the quiver around shoulder hastily, then picked the bow up. Behind her she could hear a commotion coming from Cornucopia and a shock of cold suddenly passed through her, but she brushed it off, focusing on escaping from the arena centre as quickly as possible. That meant heading to the Autumn Quarter.

While she ran, she risked a peek behind herself. A whole lot of ice and snow had suddenly appeared around the Horn, and it seemed to have most of the Careers distracted. She was puzzled herself, but for now, she was grateful for the escape route. Of course, she thought too soon.

_Swoosh! _She caught the sound in time and tumbled out of the way as a huge, double-bladed axe came flying past her. Craning her neck up to see her assailant, she grimaced when she realized it was the blonde girl from District 2.

Swinging herself up and get to her knees, she removed an arrow and aimed at the blonde. The girl was too fast though, and she rolled deftly out of the way, over to where her axe stood. Merida loaded another arrow and released, but with her axe, the girl slashed at the arrow in mid-flight, slicing it in half with her axe. The Career then charged forward with the axe, yelling as she raised it. Merida fumbled to her feet, her fingers struggling to set the next arrow, but the girl was getting too close. Merida's panting accelerated rapidly; as yet another arrow went astray. Her feet stubbornly remained rooted to ground just the District 2 tribute was three feet from her and the axe ten inches from her head...

...when the blonde was fiercely tackled to the ground by a screaming yellow blur.

Merida only could gape on as she discovered her savior to be none other Wee Dingwall. He was unarmed and unskilled, but his frenzied bites and kicks was sufficient put up a fight against the blonde girl. The girl managed to break away from him once, trying to retrieve her axe up from the grass, but he yanked her back by her braid.

"Run Merida!" Hearing him say anything coherent was the strange sound, and Merida could only stare on in astonishment.

Despite his advantage of surprise, the odds eventually swung back to the District 2 girl's favor with her greater strength. Not before long, she had him in headlock. Though he flailed and griped about, the girl only tightened her arm around his neck, struggling to get a grip on his skull.

Merida then snapped out of her freeze. Removing another arrow, she loaded it and aimed for the taller blonde. All she needed was the kill the District 2 girl and Wee Dingwall would be free.

But she couldn't.

Her arm kept shaking and her fingers were trembling. Sweat rolled off her brow like a river. She couldn't kill a killer. What was wrong with her? This was a family friend. He practically grew up with her, though she never really interacted with him. He had just saved her life; she needed to save his.

She watched as the girl clenched her teeth, pulling the boy tighter to herself. She shot a hard glare at Merida, daring her to make her move.

Merida exhaled, drawing back the arrow, but it kept slipping from her fingers. She told herself to think it as hunting. Just pretend that the Career was a beast– a vicious beast, not a girl who seemed barely her age.

Her arms were trembling too badly, and her vision was starting to blur. _She couldn't do it._

Her eyes met those anxious ones from Wee Dingwall's usually impassive face. In silence, she tried to communicate how sorry she was, and awaited an accusatory glare.

She received none. Instead, the boy jerked his head back hard, colliding had with the blonde's. She staggered back slightly, but she still managed to grab his arm and toss him face first to the ground. Her hands found their way to her axe handle, and she poised it over his head. The blonde boy on the grass didn't seem to care though. With the last of breath of his lungs, he cried, "Run!"

The redheaded girl turning, running like she had never run before. She heard a war cry from the blonde girl and a crunch of bones, but she didn't look back, not even to see if the girl gave chase. A sob escaped her throat as she hurried into the safety of the oaks. Though the place was so similar to her favorite hangout back home, she couldn't enjoy it now. All she felt was guilt eating away her soul.

Wee Dingwall, whom she had made fun of all her life, had died for her, all because she couldn't shoot the damned arrow.

She went as far as her legs could carry her, pushing past shrubs and hopping over stones, her feet thrashing through the damp red leaves. Fiercely wiped away her tears, she vowed to herself; the next time she could get the shot, she was going for the kill.

* * *

Hiccup's momentary lapse of focus had fortunately been more helpful than not. Most faster tributes ended up picking weapons and fighting each other, while he, the somewhat newcomer, had largely been ignored. He ponder if they avoided him due to his District number, or because they though him too weak to be a threat. Neither reason was very appealing to his ego, anyhow.

Whatever the case, he managed to reach Cornucopia relatively unscathed. Keeping an eye out for any other tributes, he quickly set to work to gather everything he needed; nets, rope, a small hatchet, nails, even a set of bolas. He even found a small toolbox consisting of a spanner, a small saw and a light battery-operated drill, as if it were all made perfectly for his size and strength. _'Thank you, training sessions,'_ he thought as he picked the box. The only things missing from his list were the carbon-core arrows, but he was already grateful that he could obtain this much stuff.

The equipment he rolled up in the net, then tied the bundle with ropes to his back. Every now and then, tributes, largely the Careers, whipped into the Cornucopia, but no one saw his tiny self hiding behind the larger tents and shields as he worked. Once, his heart almost dropped when he heard a fight starting in the Horn, but eventually it faded off as the battle carried on outside. Eventually he escaped the metal cave, again unscathed.

It was outside the Horn that things started getting weird. There was a lot of screaming and shouting towards the winter quarter, and an unnerving amount of ice formations everywhere. That wasn't the worst though. The sounds of bones breaking and weapons slashing and people crying, added with the adrenaline pumping in his veins, were enough to drive him crazy. With all his equipment strapped to his back, he dashed back to his plate, praying he would make it past the stones and into the summer quarter before anyone realized what an easy target he was.

_Wham!_ He wasn't attacked, but he might as well been. His head was spinning crazily as he picked himself up from the grass, squinting at what had ruined his clean exit. He found a girl's eyes staring at him through glass lens.

"You," she breathed out, slowly getting to her knees. Hiccup mimicked her actions, cautiously searching her for any threat. However, all he could see though was a girl just as frightened as he was.

His eyes flitted to the ground, where his neat roll had been unwound, his nets tangled up in the District 3 girl's backpack. The hatchet had fallen out of the bundle, onto the grass, and he needed only reach over to grab it, but somehow he never took that very seriously.

Oddly, the girl started talking to him. "Hiccup, I need to-"

Loud cracking sounds across the field that cut her short, and a terrible yet frightened voice cried out, "Stay back!" More large ice structures rose up from the ground near the Horn.

Both tributes were stunned for a moment, but he recovered first. Picking up the net, he tried to shake the bag off, but it wouldn't budge. Closer examination revealed that the bolas' ropes and nets were all deeply snagged into the straps of red bag. If he wanted to separate them without cutting them up – and he _really_ didn't want to cut the nets; his entire plan rested on them – he would have to take the time untangle them; precious time that could make the difference between life and death.

Grimly, he rolled up the nets loosely before dragging it away, till the girl realized what he was doing.

"Hey!" She yelled, grabbing the red bag caught in the net, "I need this!"

"Well, I need the net and it won't come loose," Hiccup explained quickly, his eyes darting around for attackers. He nodded another bag lying a few feet from the. "Take that one."

"No, I need _this_ bag," the girl insisted, her grip only tightening as she tugged it back.

"Well, _I _need the net," Hiccup replied stubbornly, pulling back on the bag.

The girl refused to let go. "You don't understand. We – I really need this-"

_Yank._ "Well, I'm really sorry, but I want to live too-"

"Give me my bag!" _Tug. _"You don't realize it, but if-"

"You need to let go! We're too exposed right now! " He scanned around frantically for any attackers, but with all these random icicles around, they could be anywhere. _Pull._ "Please don't make this any harder than it is-"

"You let go, you son of a - _Hiro!_"

Another wave of ice sweeping between the spring and winter quarters caught the blonde attention. Taking the advantage of the distraction, Hiccup swiped the whole net from her hands, then speeding away, with it falling behind him. He prayed that all the items would stay in the bundle, though he already dropped the hatchet during the debacle.

"Hey!" He heard the blonde girl shout behind him, her light steps falling behind. "Hiccup, stop please! Tell you what! Why do we be al-_AIIIIIKKKK_!"

He hadn't gone back when she had yelled for him, but when she screamed, he swung around instantly. Her straight orange-blonde was stained sticky red. Through her misty glasses, she gazed down at her bloodied torso, where only a dagger's hilt protruded from her stomach.

Just as she collapsed to the grass, Hiccup had traced the source of the attack near Cornucopia. A boy with red-white hair watched them like a hawk on the hunt. A flick of his wrist sent another dagger whizzing, heading straight for Hiccup. It would have struck him down, if the District 2 boy hadn't taken a step back.

A second later he found himself on the ground and staring at the sky while a silvery object shot flew above him. When he sat himself up, he found himself on a trail of ice, which had started at a tribute plate next to his own, and led all the way to the Horn.

He couldn't waste time contemplating what this could mean though, because he was too busy gasping at the District 1 boy. A few calls beyond the Cornucopia stole the Career's attention, and he vanished behind the metal structure.

Hiccup was tempted to take up the net and sprint off, but his heartstrings forbade him to. Against his better judgment, he found himself kneeling next to the District 3 girl, who was breathing too quickly and too shallowly.

The sight of blood made Hiccup feel faint, but he forced himself to stay conscious. "Hey, Honey," he tried to sound comforting, looking at the girl's pained eyes to avoid glancing at her wound. "We're going to take this nice and slow-"

She pulled the dagger out, allowing the blood run.

"-and you've just halved your time," he finished dryly, squirming at the added streams of red. He gestured helplessly at the leaking wound, despairing. "_Why_ would you do _that_?"

"_Five. Only five_," she wheezed out. "Hiro..."

The boy had no idea what to do. Vaguely recalling some of the first aid he had learnt in training, he ripped out some the excess cloth from his coat – which was plentiful - and tried to plug the cut, but the rivers of red just kept flowing. Her mutterings bothered him. Was she getting delusions already? Should he correct her that he wasn't her black-haired friend?

An explosion shook the Arena for moment. Hiccup's head shot up as he observed as a cloud of ice burst into the blue sky, before falling down as frost and snowflakes. A single, large cliff of ice had formed before the Horn, effectively shielding them from possible assailants located nearer the winter and autumn quarters. For now, it was just him and the girl. Maybe he could take the time.

He grimaced. He had to take the time. Whether he liked it or not, this was his fault.

She coughed, blood spurting from her wound as she did, and started to shiver. Hiccup begun taking off his jacket, hoping to warm her, but she stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

"Hiro...," she murmured again, her eyes gazing unfocusedly at him through the red-splattered glass.

Hiccup sucked in an uneasy breath, trying not to let the smell of iron get to him. He made a scan for the black-haired boy, but with all thick ice barricades, he couldn't see for sure.

"Hiro's gone," he lied. When he saw how the girl's eyes widened in alarm, he immediately rephrased, "I mean, ah, he's not at the Horn anymore. I think he escaped."

The girl relaxed, slumping herself back on the grass. Her shaking hands went to her wrist, as she tried to remove her armband. Hiccup immediately helped her to slip it off before handing it to her. However, the girl refused to take it back.

"...Keep...Hiccupyou…keep...five...yougood," she drawled, her words slurring as her eyes started to lose focus. She weakly pressed the band back in his hands, giving him a smile. She shut her eyes, then her head dropped back, and her arm fell limp.

A lump grew at the back of his throat, as he solemnly gathered up the equipment, including the red bag. The bloodied armband he wore on his left arm, the same way she did. With his equipment strapped to his back, he hurried into the summer quarter, only glancing back once at the District 3 girl.

Ruefully, he twisted the band around his arm. Even if it wasn't his hand who delivered the killing blow, he knew that the robotics prodigy would refuse to see it otherwise. Regardless of what he did now, in Hiro's eyes, Hiccup Haddock would always be associated with the death of his blonde bespectacled friend.

Hiccup ran doggedly over the rugged ground, but his heart mourned the death of an innocent girl, and his only possible alliance.

* * *

_'I'm going to die.'_

_'I'm stronger than I look.'_

_'I'm going to die.'_

_'I'm stronger than I look.'_

Millions of opposing thoughts kept flitting through her head, and she was quite surprised she could accomplish anything at all. When the gong had sounded, she had managed to leap off her plate instantly. Following Eugene's instructions, she had only grabbed whatever was closest to her - a bag pack and a bottle of water. She had been tempted to pick up more, but she had resisted, turning on her heel as she headed away from the Horn, into the spring quarter, near where she had started at.

That was when she was yanked by her hair, then tossed like a doll to the ground.

She was tried to get back up, but a heavy hand forced her back. She squirmed, horrified as she watched a machete was raised high above her, with a dark sneer appearing on the lips of the District 7 tribute.

"Lights out, Blondie," the huge, boorish girl snarled cruelly.

Rapunzel never meant to, but a scream escaped her lips, and when she had started, she couldn't stop.

It must have disturbed the District 7 tribute, because her attacker flinched back for a moment. Taking her chance, Rapunzel groped desperately around the grass, her hand managing to pick up something metallic. With a cry of fear and anger, she swung the metal object at the attacking girl, managing to smack her in the face. The redheaded tribute roared in agony, dropping the weapon just inches from Rapunzel's face, and fortunately nowhere near her hair. The blonde scrambled to her feet, one arm grabbing into her braid, while the other gripping tightly on the frying pan that had saved her life. She had lost all her supplies, and if she didn't hurry, she would lose her life.

"I'll kill you, Goldilocks!" the redhead screamed behind her. "Just you wait!"

Rapunzel kept moving forward, heading out towards the stones before the spring quarters. Unfortunately, rocks along the way – ice? – got in her path and she found herself tumbling over them. She didn't fall, but the lost speed gave the District 7 tribute a chance to narrow the gap. Her heart was beating faster than the speed of sound, and her palms were sweating so much she could hardly feel the frying pan slipping. The horrible cries her pursuer made only served to unnerve her further, as her boots were starting burn into her soles.

As fast as she was, the assailant could keep up too well, and Rapunzel could almost feel the breath of the other girl behind her. She heard shrieks and calls somewhere near the Horn, but she couldn't really pay attention, not with the machete that near her head.

Suddenly, she heard an agonized yell from her attacker and she halted, turning around. The District 7 girl was lying on the grass, a crimson hole in where her heart use to be, but the weapon was nowhere in sight. Rapunzel had a feeling she would rather not find it.

Swallowing her disgust, she glancing around, holding the frying pan up to keep her guard up. Over the battles happening all around her, her eyes eventually found the mysterious attacker. On hindsight, the method of attack she should have informed her well enough who it was.

Half-way across the field, the black-curled girl from District 1 had an array of daggers strapped to herself – retrieved from the Horn, the blonde suspected - but she didn't throw any of them at Rapunzel. Instead, Gothel beckoned the girl over, with what seemed to a kindly smile. She also yelled something, but with the racket the blonde couldn't hear a single word.

Rapunzel hesitated. She had no doubt that running over to the arena near the summer quarter, where the Career was, would be safe; the older girl had proven her prowess with knives, and would certainly cover her back. However, she remembered too well what happened in Eugene's Games. There were some mistakes not worth repeating.

But turning down a Career, especially one who with that good an arm? That would be a mistake too. The second she turned her back on Gothel, Rapunzel was certain she would find a dagger through her chest – correction, _just a hole_ in her chest.

She was rooted to the ground, unsure on what to do. Gothel seemed to get frustrated by her indecision, because her shouts had become more frequent and more furious. Eventually, it seemed that black-haired girl would run towards herself, but then a huge white wall suddenly rose from the ground between them, flinging Rapunzel back.

"Rapunzel!" She heard a muffled cry from Gothel, but it seemed so far away.

Much nearer by, she heard another voice behind the ice, frightened yet harsh, "Stay back! All of you!"

Cries of astonishment and outrage came soon after that, but the ice was opaque and Rapunzel couldn't see what caused it.

Spikes began forming on the ice wall, so Rapunzel picked herself up, gathering her hair and her frying pan before racing away from it, praying that no one would stop her this time.

Her prayers went unanswered. From her side, a sword hilt came crashing down on her brow, knocking her off her feet once more. Raising her arm, she swung the frying pan wildly, but the attacker was preparing, twisting the pan out of her hands within a second. Disarmed, she tried to run, but the boy had simply stepped on to her plait, tugging her to an abrupt stop.

"_Ah-ah-ah_," he said, wagging his finger at her face, resting his cool blade against her neck. "Struggling is pointless."

She was sweating profusely, her breath quickening. Was it just a under a week ago when she had said those words? She was pretty sure she could never say it so menacingly though.

As terrified as she was, she couldn't help but be fascinated by the appearance of the District 4 boy. He was not much taller than herself, but was obviously much stronger and muscular – not surprising, since he was a Career. Three long scars decorated his left eye. She could only wonder who did it to him, and she shuddered to imagine what he did to that person.

"I could kill you with this sword," he was saying in a rather conversational tone. "Just so you know I'm not inept, or anything." She tried edging away, but he was just pressed it closer to her throat as a warning, and she stopped. "But that's just really boring and conventional. I like efficiency – I really do, but I also like fun. Hey, won't you look at those?"

His face lit up as he turned to the giant ice wall, lined with uneven but sharp icicles. Rapunzel attempted to escape again, but he simply dropped the sword and raised her on chokehold, cackling incessantly. His grip was incredibly strong and even if she didn't want to, she struggled. Black spots started clouding her vision as she fought to breath in his tight hands.

"Oh, I've got a brilliant idea!" He exclaimed, a wicked glint appearing in his eye, as he gazed at the wriggling blonde with mad excitement. "How about I put you up there? Well, a more accurate phrasing would be 'toss' or 'fling' or 'ram-against-it-till-you're-a-nothing-but-a-bloody carcass', but yeah, you get the gist."

"N..no…" Rapunzel croaked. She swore herself that she wouldn't going to plead for mercy, but the shining sharp ice spikes set her heart thumping against her ribcage.

He paused, deadpanning at her. "Um, you knew it was a rhetorical question right?"

Abruptly, he broke into a demonic laugh, a deranged expression further marring his face as he strutted to the wall, still swinging the girl around like she was nothing but a crumpled flower.

"Hope you're not afraid of heights," he called through a sadistic grin, as he lifted her towards the icicles. He drew his arm back to toss her, chortling insanely as he did. Rapunzel simply held her breath as she prepared herself for the plunge of agony in her back.

Then, with a cry, he let her go, but besides a little cut, she felt nothing.

Bewildered, she found that she was sitting just an inch away from the icicles, a little tear on her back from scraping against one of the points.

A shout caused her to raise her head. Before her stood her captor, was cursing colorfully as he fought off her rescuer - a petite-size girl who surprising strong for her size. The girl – from District 10, her coat revealed - had nothing but her bare hands, but she still wrestled with the boy. She used one palm to push back his blade, and the other to push on his hilt. Her left hand was bleeding badly, but she didn't stop. Driving back the boy one step at a time, she shoved him nearer and nearer the spike-covered wall.

The boy became aware of her intention, so he drew himself back for a moment before launching his weight against the girl, causing her to stumble back. As he lifted the blade to smite the smaller tribute, Rapunzel returned to her senses. Picking broken icicle on the ground nearby, she brought down heavily on the boy's head. The boy's eyes glazed over, before he slumped on to the grass.

Rapunzel gasped, dropping the icicle as she did. Her eyes searched for any signs of life in the boy, but she couldn't find any. A wave of nausea swept over her as her hand subconsciously covered her trembling lip.

"C'mon." The District 10 girl said to her, hardly giving the boy a glance. She removed the sword from his hand, strapping it to her waist. Her bleeding hand see gave a disapproving glance, before she went over to retrieve Rapunzel's pan.

Handing the metal object to the blonde, the District 10 girl said, almost cheerily, "So, I saved your butt, you saved mine. Allies?"

She could almost hear Flynn shouting in her ear, _'Yes! Yes!'_ Slowly, Rapunzel took the pan, gladly curling her fingers around the handle.

"Okay," she answered as casually as she could, but her voice was shaking so much she was surprised she was coherent at all.

"Let's go then," the girl told her. Rapunzel nodded, and both of them sprinted together in the spring quarter. There was no one else in sight, but they still checked their surroundings often, just in case.

On their way out, the District 10 girl picked up some materials, so Rapunzel did the same. She noticed that the smaller girl had a tendency to look across the field, as if trying to find someone, but the walls of ice pretty much blocked their view of the rest of the arena centre except for the Cornucopia itself.

When they ran past the large stones, and their boots hit the softer grass of the spring quarter, the District 10 girl stopped for a moment, searching around them. Finally, she sighed, saying in a small voice, "I think he's not coming."

Rapunzel wondered who could she be talking about, then it struck her that she meant the girl was talking about another ally. She guessed that it was probably that boy from her District – both of them had hung out a lot during Training Sessions. She made a small cry when she finally realized what the girl had meant.

"Let's go," the girl told her sadly.

Both of them sprinted through the forest, and didn't stop for hours, though they were exhausted from fear and sorrow.

* * *

**S/N: **

**Yep, Big Hero 6 fans are gonna kill me. Yep. And...maybe I deserve it. But will any weep of W. Dingwall? Hmmph.**

**Time for some Bios of lesser-known characters that will have recurring appearance:**

**District 4 tributes:**

**Male: Dagur the Deranged – First appearance in **_**Riders of Berk**_** episode 'Twinsanity' – The mad teenage chief of the Berserker tribe (Enemies of Berk, basically), he killed (or it is implied in the story) his own father to take over. Has a personal vendetta against Hiccup, though he once considered him 'a brother', since they were both sons of chiefs. Deranged plans include conquering Berk and killing Toothless while Hiccup watches. While crazy, he is very strong, extremely talented in most weaponry and quite cunning in battle. His most dangerous weapon – and his greatest weakness – is his madness.**

**Female: Heather – First appearance in **_**Riders of Berk**_** episode 'Heather Report' – Starting out as a spy placed amongst the Dragon riders to steal the Book of Dragons, she eventually shifts to good after the Dragon riders help rescue her parents from the Outcasts (Another antagonistic tribe in the series, FYI). In (too) many Httyd fanfictions, she usually plays an antagonistic role against Astrid, because in said episode, Astrid gets jealous of excessive trust that Hiccup put in said, but the girls end up buddy-ish by the end of the episode. Is pretty (enough to compete with Astrid), crafty, intelligent, and a pretty good actress. ****Even if she doesn't use weapons in the show, I'm just pretending she can here - because!**

**The official death list of tributes for Bloodbath would be out in Chapter 16, and I'll be putting survivors lists every now and then for you guys to keep track easier. If I remember.**

**I hope the POVs here weren't too confusing? This is the first time since Chapter 1 that I've done a semi-concurrent POV, so if you find issues with this, I would appreciate the feedback. **

**Up Next: What happened to Jack and Elsa? Bloodbath Part 2.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hello everyone. Was-sup? **

**I'm refusing to watch Mockingjay Part 1 (I hate unfinished films. Waiting till Part 2 comes out, and on dvd), but I'm addicted to the score. Listening to James Newton Howard helps in writing process.**

**Okay, I'll get to it.**

**Mailbox: **

**A way to uncreative girl: Great, we agree! The seasons aren't just seasons though – they all come with strings. Hope you'd be able to recognize the stuff I throw into each season. If not… I just suck.**

**SmilingStarcat: I think Snow Arena would Elsa way too much advantage. Or at least, everyone else who would die of freezing except her, and it'd be a very short and boring game. Hope you liked this chapter, though you may find it upsetting. **

**Awsomaniatica: Hah, the end was supposed to a little funny, compared to how depressing this chapter is/could be. And this isn't the worst, obviously. Glad you like the layout. I may be in over my head over this though. **

**Elvis Rules41: I concur on that! That's what Fixer-Upper's about! At least half of it…sorta. Hiccup's image is, like, completely smattered if you ask me. Whoever sponsors the funny guy? I mean, c'mon... More Freaked out Elsa in next chapter, but hey, her ice plays an important role here. **

**Mariemarc44: Yay! Emma's part is actually one that's kinda irrelevant (compared to the others which are linked to the story) but I really liked going into her head and writing like a little girl. I guess with the death of a certain someone, you can recount the folks on your list again. I can't tell you anything yet, but I enjoy reading your guesses. I love Hiccup and Astrid too - I have a thing for 'nerdy-guy and strong-girl' tropes. Hope you liked this chapter.**

**Review! Ask Questions! Critique! **


	16. Chapter 15: Bloodbath Part 2

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 15: Bloodbath Part 2

* * *

Blood, blood, everywhere. It sickened him to the core.

Some logical, rational part of himself told him to move his feet, but he couldn't. He stood transfixed at the scene before, his face scrunched up in horror and disgust - but mostly horror.

Scarcely twenty feet from him plate, he observed as the scarred District 4 boy slashed a long sword at a small, black-haired boy running before him. The other boy's nimbleness was the only thing that saved him so far, but then District 4 boy produced a small dart and flung it at the black-haired boy. The dart cut the boy's leg and he stumbled, falling on his face. The District 4 boy raised his blade, ready to plunge it into his victim's back. However, the monstrous sized District 11 boy came rumbling from the Horn, roughly shoving the District 4 boy to his aside. The District 4 gave an infuriated growl, before giving chase to the offending bigger tribute and forgetting the smaller prey. The boy was lying horribly still though, and Jack wondered if he was already dead from some wound he hadn't seen earlier.

To his left, near the autumn quarter, he queasily watched that the District 8 boy pursued a small girl with a black ponytail, a cleaver in hand. But fortunately this girl was sneaky and quick, throwing a canteen set picked from the ground the larger boy, distracting him as she made her getaway behind the red and yellow maples of the Autumn Quarter.

Then a spear sprouted between the District 8 boy's shoulder blades, causing him to collapse to the ground. The thrower of the weapon – the District 4 girl - came dashing to the boy's body. Her hands became stained red when she yanked on the handle, before brushing her black bangs back casually, as if this was nothing more than a morning walk to her. That was when she caught him staring.

At that moment, Jack suddenly realized he had been standing still on his plate all this while.

Jumping off his plate, he swung back, behind the stones, in front of the winter quarter, running like the wind. He cursed at himself. What is Tooth had already thought him dead and left? Or worse, she waited, and got attacked? He reassured herself that if the latter occurred, Tooth would be fine. She must have earned the score of nine for a reason.

Just as he almost reached the last stone that marked the winter quarter, loud cracking sounds around the Horn caught his attention. Unwittingly, he halted at his steps.

There she was; the angel, albeit, a very _scared_ angel.

She dashed past the mouth of the Horn, a Career hot on her heels, her hands clinging to her elbows, and snow trailing her feet.

Wait, _snow_?

"Stay back!" The District 12 girl yelled, but the Career obviously ignored her, instead calling for her fellow Pack mates to hunt the District 12 girl.

Involuntarily, the District 12 girl raised a hand out, as if to push the chasing girl away, but instead, a blue light shot out, onto the ground, before a barricade of glistening icicles rose up around her.

One of the Careers - the girl from District 4 carrying the spear - was running forth when she was struck by the spikes. She fell back, clutching her shoulder. The District 1 girl barely rolled out of the way in time, panting heavily as she did.

"Shen!" She shouted behind her, while drawing a knife from her belt. "Get your cocky butt here, or so help me!"

With that said, she flung the blade at the blonde girl, who veered away in time. In fearful retaliation, she halted for a moment, taking a single step at towards the Career, forming a stream of ice in that direction, causing the black-haired girl to slip painfully, before encasing her torso with tentacles of crystal.

"Shen!" The girl screamed again, wriggling furiously in her trap.

Then, a new voice came from the Autumn Quarter. "Hey, _Ice Freak_!"

A blur zapped past the District 12's girl, scraping hard against her skull. The platinum-blonde girl stumbled back, though still on her feet, holding her hand against her bleeding head as she sought her assailant.

Jack wasn't that surprised that it was District 2 girl who threw the hatchet – he had seen how she handled those in training after all. She had picked up another two from the ground and flung them expertly. The District 12 girl managed to avoid one, but the other struck her shoulder. She cried out, clenching her teeth, pressing onto the wound. For someone so powerful, she seemed remarkably..._afraid_.

Something in him snapped. Before he knew, Jack was moving across the field before he knew it. The District 2 girl whipped the axe off her back and charged. The District 12 girl was more prepared this time, drawing up a boulder of ice to push back the District 2 girl. The shorter girl however was far too agile, and she skipped around the boulder, swinging her axe back as she dash forward.

Another Career - the boy from District 1- had already arrived, and was shooting an array of darts from her back. The District 12 girl had constructed a shield ice to protect herself, but just barely. She took the shield and threw it at the District 2, crashing her back. The District 1 boy then drew out a long sword from his back and lunged at her. The girl raised her arms, forming a new curved ice boulder to protect herself, but the boy methodically slammed into it, cracking it. A frenzied expression was on his face, as he danced around the ice, whipping his blade like a ribbon.

Jack began running faster at that point. As he swept past the other fighting tributes, he picked up a rapier he found on stuck in the grass, charging forward. At the back of his head, he knew he was being foolhardy, but he supposed he was never really the logical type. He could imagine Emma watching him, ranting at the screen, demanding why he was doing something as stupid as this. Bunnymund was probably cussing at the screen too.

Honestly, he didn't know the reasons himself.

The District 12 girl then struck an icy blast at the boy, sending him flying back. In a wave of panic, the she raised both arms and screamed, more as a warning than a threat, "Get back!"

The Careers paid no heed of course. The wounded District 4 girl had already picked herself up and headed for ice-powered girl. The District 2 tribute did likewise, charging and screaming once more. Jack, however, knew from the platinum-blonde's terrified expression that this was no bluff. So he flung himself behind the nearest object he could find - a large wooden shield – and sat tight, holding his rapier at safe distance.

The explosion of ice and wind was so strong and powerful he was carried from the centre of the field back to his starting point. He would have found that amusing, if he wasn't bruised from head to toe after colliding into one of the stone monoliths.

The whirlwind died after a freezing five seconds, but that's all it took for the sweat on his face to freeze. Brushing the snow off his face, coughing, he blinked, tried to work out what happened. Blinking away the whiteness, he forced himself to sit up, even though his aching back advised against it. When he peered over a glassy boulder, his eyes widened in astonishment.

As far as he could tell, the half of the Cornucopia that faced the winter and autumn quarters were frozen, and the ice was still spreading rest of the field, like a white wave washing over the green.

As useless as the wooden shield had been, it did guard his head against millions of icicle formations that sprouted in the field. Scanning around him, as far as he could see, most tributes were still out cold from the impromptu blizzard, some even trapped in the crystalline structures. A magnificent wall of ice blocked the entire view of the spring and summer quarters. He wondered if Tooth was still there.

Spinning around, he spotted a reddish-brown trail, leading to a distant figure. She was racing deeper and deeper in the winter quarter as fast as she could, anxiously glancing back every now and then.

Groaning a little, he got to his feet, picking the rapier that could have killed him in the storm, but didn't. He noted carefully the direction she was going to. At corner of his eye, he noted that several of the remaining tributes in the frozen field – largely Careers – were coming to. They would take some time to get the ice off and tend their wounds, but when they were ready, there was already a trail leading them to vengeance.

He heard a faint moan nearby, and he looked in that direction.

His surprised eyes met the disorientated ones of a much younger boy. It was the boy who was attacked by the District 4 tribute at the start of the Games. The boy – District 3, his coat revealed - brushed back the snow off his black hair, as he pushed himself of the cold ground. Then the boy blinked, and scurried back, letting out a gasp of pain as he did. Under closer scrutiny, Jack realized that his right leg was injured – a deep laceration in the calf.

The boy stared at his own wound, then back at him, then at the rapier. The boy's breaths quickened when he started to comprehend his precarious situation. He glanced around him for anything as a weapon, but ice was futile against steel.

Clutching to the armband that he wore around his wrist, the boy inhaled deeply. With a resigned air, he whispered to the standing boy, "Make this quick."

With that said, he squeezed shut his eyes, turning away.

When the fullness of the boy's abject surrender crashed on him, Jack found his own heart racing. He knew that this was expected of him; this was death match, for crying out loud. He could almost hear the voices of the Capitol roaring for him to slay this boy, who almost half his height and injured, in cold blood. The rapier was sharp and smooth; a quick lunge, and the boy would barely feel anything. But the minute he felt the sword trembling in his grasp, Jack knew that he didn't believe a smidgen of what he was telling himself.

"_You're a guardian, Jack. You thrive on protective instinct."_

Bunnymund was probably going to kill him, if the game didn't first. But there was no way he was killing this boy. Not this way.

When he dropped the rapier, the metal clattering on ice caused the boy's eyes to shoot open. The boy gazed up at him in disbelief; his eyes are round as dinner plates.

"C'mon, kid," Jack said, bending down and putting one arm under the boy's. The boy still stared at him, reluctant and unconvinced.

"If we don't move now, the Careers will pick you off when they find you," the elder boy told him, "and they carry scarier weapons than me."

The boy watched at him for a long moment, then asked, "Why?"

Jack rolled his eyes in frustration. He couldn't explain this in front of all the cameras. If his sponsors, as crazy as they were about his looks, might be less willing to support a tribute who decided not to kill for altruistic reasons. He was still counting on them to think that this was some hare-brained strategy that he had.

Then he realized that he just gave himself the answer. "You're small game, and I'm buying favors. I do expect payback. Now, are you going to move?"

The boy raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was more skeptical towards the reply than the deed. But he said nothing of this. Instead, he removed the metal band around his wrist. Twisting it slightly, the part of the band fell off, forming two new wrist bands. The thinner of the two he handed to Jack. "Here. Your 'payment'."

It was Jack's turn to raise his brow.

"I have allies in the game," the dark-haired boy explained, as he slipped his arm band back on. "They have similar bands. You wear this, you get their help. Well, you have to help them back sometime too."

"Fair enough," Jack answered, sliding the band up his arm. Then he held a hand out to the boy. "So, are you getting up?"

The boy paused, then shook his head. "There's something I need to check first. Just leave me here."

Jack was deeply puzzled about what could possible drive the boy to stay in the danger zone, but part of him felt relieved that he could keep some distance from his 'almost-victim'. "Are you sure?"

"Yep," the District 3 boy confirmed, leaning his back against the ice, then checking on his wound. "Don't worry about me."

Jack contemplated this a moment, then shrugged. "Your choice."

Rising his feet, Jack nodded curtly to the boy, before heading back out, passing the huge stones as he did. The rapier was still swerving around on the ice, but Jack didn't pick it up. He wasn't a blade person.

"Hey, Ten."

He swung back to the boy, wondering what else there could be.

"Thanks for, you know, not killing me. _Yet_."

Jack could only grunt in response. A pleasant reply would come off as weird on screen. So he answered somewhat grouchily, "Name's Jack."

"Hiro."

Turning on his heel, Jack left the Cornucopia grounds, but before he did, he made one last check on the Careers. Most of them were already awake, hacking the ice off their limbs and bodies. He had best leave before they noticed his presence. Or the lack of.

He glanced first in the direction of the spring quarter, then back at the snow path that he was already stuck in.

He knew that if Tooth was alive, she would be long gone. She'd probably thought him dead. True, he could try to find her in the spring quarter, but the Arena was so vast, he might only find her when the survivor numbers dwindled to single digits. On the other hand, the stained snow of the winter quarter told him exactly where he needed to go.

He huffed a sigh. It would be folly to do the latter, of course. Tooth had agreement with him, and she'd be more than willing to fulfill her end. She was from his District - if there was anyone who he should help here, it should be her. But he couldn't forget the terrified expression of the blonde girl as she fled from the Careers. And with such blatant trail leading them to where she was, it couldn't be right to leave her alone.

He hoped that Tooth would understand, as he picked up his feet and continued moving through the snow.

* * *

Hovercrafts flew over the Cornucopia, trying to pry the dead bodies from the ice. A hot breeze blew in from the summer quarter, feeling like a dry but welcome smack of warmth in the freezing metal Horn.

When all but the Careers were left at the Horn, only five cannon shots rang out in the air. Only five. That was had to be the smallest death count for a bloodbath ever. They could blame the ice, or – though not so preferable – their own incompetence.

"Well?" The scarred boy from District 4 turned to his companions, toying with his large sword. The redhead pressed on the ground wriggled about in defiance, only stopping when the District 4 boy stomped harder onto his back. There was a crack sound –bones, it was likely, - and the redheaded boy grunted in muffled agony.

"Stop squirming. I _hate_ squirming!" The Career snarled at their prisoner, swing his blade about threatening. Returning his gaze to his fellow Careers, the scarred boy repeated, "Well?"

The three other heads turned to the white haired boy in the group. He narrowed his brows at the redhead sprawled on the snow, before declaring flatly, "Kill him."

The District 4 boy's eyes lit up in diabolical glee as he heaved the sword, ready to plunge it into his victim's back, when an articulate voice rang out, "_Or_...we could use some common sense for once, and ignore Shen."

There were collective groans as the District 1 boy glared daggers at his district mate. The scarred boy made an infuriated growl as he plunked the blade aside, flailing his hands in frustration. "Make up your mind, you morons! Do I get to maim the pretty boy or not?"

"He has a point," the redhead mumbled dryly in the snow, trying to pick himself up.

The sole blonde career gave him a kick in the stomach, causing him to grimace sharply, clutching his ribs as he curled back on the ground.

"That's for talking without permission," she informed him harshly. She jerked her head to the two tributes of the luxury district. "Well?"

"There're already too many people in the Arena," Shen pointed out. "We should take out whoever we can."

"Well, precisely because there're so many more we must hunt that all the more we need hands," Gothel argued in returned as she slipped gloves over her slender fingers. Cocking her head to the redhead boy squirming on the ground, "I've seen him with a sword. He's quite dandy with it. Besides," a sly grin crept on her face, "he's cute."

The boy on the ground looked considerably disturbed at her statement. The blonde girl just rolled her eyes.

"And he did fight off the other sideburns – the District 7 boy - who was way bigger than him," the District 4 girl, Heather, added in, slipping her coat over her bandaged shoulder – a new woolen one from Cornucopia. There were enough of warm clothes to clothes to go around in the Horn, but they had to divide it up fairly to prevent conflict. For now.

Their 'discussion' was interrupted by a famous voice booming down from the sky.

"_Attention, attention all tributes."_ It was Sully the presenter who spoke. Silence immediately fell amongst the teenagers, even the one sprawled on the ground. _"There has been a rule change."_

Everyone perked their ears; some with interest and others with suspicion. Besides not stepping off your plates early, and not eating each other, there were no rules as far as the Hunger Games were concerned.

"_Pertaining to tributes with mutant abilities, the use of powers to strike the killing blow is forbidden,"_ Sully announced. _"I repeat, pertaining to tributes with mutant abilities, the use of powers to strike the killing blow is forbidden. That is all."_

With that, the announcement was over, and the babble swept over them.

"Remarkable. Our lives just got harder."

"We hunt the Ice Witch. _Now_."

"Half of us are still sore from injuries," Heather protested. "If they only forbidden her to use it for the killing blow, she _can and will_ take us down to easily. We need time to recover, and we need time to plan."

"That sounds wise, and we can't leave the supplies around here," mused Gothel, twirling her black curls around her fingers as she thought. Eyeing the falling flakes, she continued, "Cornucopia is obviously no longer ideal camping ground. We need a camping site that's warmer, and suited protecting the goods." It was a sound point. Being brought up in richer districts, the Careers were used to richer foods - a disadvantage a game that where hunger was too easily a killer. Food stuffs at the Horn was what kept them from starving, thus protecting the supplies was absolutely essential.

"Now who's isn't thinking this through?" The District 1 boy was snapped at the the black-haired girl, earning a frown from her. "The more time we give her, the more time she has to prepare. We go _now_."

"We're wounded, but so is she. The best time is strike now," supplemented Astrid, as she struck the whetstone across her axe. It was back to its gleaming silvery self, now that she had cleaned the dried blood off with the snow.

"Can we stop wasting time and just chase down to stupid girl?" bellowed Dagur, who was very close to carving the captured boy's head off just for entertainment.

The District 2 girl however noticed to this. Dragging him off their prisoner, she grabbed the redheaded boy by the coat and yanked him to his feet. The boy's hand immediately went to his broken ribs, but Astrid didn't give him time for that.

"Listen clear, Twelve," she hissed at him, grabbing his collar. She was much shorter than him, but it was obvious which of the two would win in close combat. "You co-operate, do your part, we'll let you live – for a while. But you even think of running, or backstabbing," she menacingly jabbing the tip her axe at his chest, "I'll let Dagur here carve out your heart. And _that's_ only if I don't do it myself."

The boy paled at her statement and nodded. Letting him go, she turned to the rest of the Careers, all of whom gave her skeptical looks.

Undaunted, she instructed, "We'll break into teams. Three of us would hunt the ice witch into the winter quarter. If nothing else, find out where she is now. Two would scout for a camping site. As far as I can tell, the spring quarter's terrain seems the most suitable. One of us stays to guard the supplies. Other tributes may sneak back, no doubt."

The District 4 boy sneered. "Who died and put you in charge?"

The girl simply returned him a glare that shut him up.

"The Ice Witch is powerful, but she's not that fast," Shen considered, pressing his fingers against each other as he thought out loud. "I believe my speed would be needed."

Gothel immediately interjected with sarcasm, "Wonderful, _darling_! I'm sure you're tiny little darts will make _all_ the difference." Shifting towards the others, she said, "Weapons of both force and range are needed to smash her ice. I believe I can contribute to that." One hand dropped her on her belt, glistening with the sharp, long daggers she carried. Shen was practically seething, as he eyed the smaller-sized collection that lined his torso.

"I'm in too," the District 4 volunteered, picking a fresh double-ended spear of the rack.

An axe was heavy-weight enough to break ice formations, so all waited for Astrid to throw in her own name. However, she simply retrieved a crossbow and a set of bolts from a shelf.

Heading to the redheaded boy, she asked, still reeking hostility, "Do you know how to use this?"

Slowly, the boy nodded. "I've tried in the Training Session."

"Good." She threw it all into his arms, and he stumbled back at the weight. "Try anything funny, and you'll regret it."

To last two boys, she said, "You'll scout for the camping site."

"Wow, that's really boring," Dagur deadpanned. For a minute, he actually looked sane.

Astrid simply narrowed her brows at him. "You wanna keep watch?"

There no arguments after that. Each one of them grabbed the gear that they needed. The redhead boy was allowed bandages for his ribs. Just as they began streaming out of the Cornucopia, Astrid pulled the District 4 girl aside.

"Watch Twelve carefully," she told the other girl in a low voice, see eyeing the redhead with sideburns suspiciously. "I don't know how much of the 'lover boy' is true, but if it is, he may try something."

Realization struck the dark-haired girl, as a smirk appeared on her face. "That's why you spared him, didn't you? To act as a bait? That's actually pretty clever – for a District 2-er."

"I'm strong too," Astrid replied impassively, but there was thinly veiled warning behind it.

Exchanging cold nods, the girls parted.

Astrid watched as the trio disappeared down into the winter quarter, while the pair headed into the temperate, sunny spring quarter.

She sat herself right at the mouth of the Horn, where she had the clearest view of anyone coming into the field. Setting herself against the metal box that held a month's worth supply of canned food, she continued to sharpen her axe as snow pelted down from the mysteriously clear blue sky.

* * *

**Winter Quarter **

"_What are you?"_

That had been the first thing the District 1 girl had demanded of her when she had built the magnificent ice barrier between the spring and summer quarters. It hadn't been her fault – she had been provoked. The District 4 boy, who had been lost his previous prey, had decided to attack her while she had been running towards the Horn. In a moment of panic, she had done the only thing she knew how to do – freeze up. Literally.

Those tributes that had seen the massive wall of ice suddenly rise from the ground been stunned, and for five seconds the entire Arena had been almost still. Even Hans, who had been locked in battle with a District 7 tribute, had stopped to stare. His gaze had been the most uncomfortable she had felt before; confusion, disbelief – then _fear_.

Eventually the staring had stopped, certainly. The first to move had come from the black-haired District 1 tribute – which had been the toss of a dagger - and everything from that on had been a white blur.

But then there had been the question; why had she abandoned Pabbie's first rule and gone running in the Cornocopia? Not that she had been the only disobedient one, since Hans ran in too.

On hindsight, she realized that the Gamemakers who had done it– no, just the Head Gamemaker. She remembered how he had stared intently back at her during the judging session, watching her wring her gloved fingers together. He must have understood what the gloves meant then, because he had decided to place a pair right at the mouth of the Horn, at an angle that he had known that she would see. He had known how to lure her out, and she had fallen for it. And a single slip up had shown the world the truth about the mysterious Snow Queen.

When the announcement came, it had been a huge relief. She had honestly expected greater repercussions for her 'abilities', but the simple vagueness of rule surprised her. The Capitol hated anything that they didn't expect in the Games, especially when it came from the tributes themselves. As of now, they were probably trying to convince the public that they had known about her powers all along – _'Why, didn't you see the parade with all that ice? Don't you think we would know too well if 'the Snow Queen' could actually use snow?'_

To her credit, there were almost no rules in the Hunger Games, and technically, her cryokinetic powers could be considered just as her own abilities, so she wasn't really cheating. She supposed to the rule was just to prevent her from freezing everyone to death. That would be far too boring a show, after all.

She placed a hand over her bleeding shoulder, allowing the ice to coat it with a layer of snow, before she tried shifting her arm again. It still hurt to move it, but snow did stop plug the wound, and the coating was surprisingly light and flexible enough for her to swing her arm in circle. Not that she wanted to do that now.

The next part she tended to was her head. Brushing the abrasion lightly, she flinched when she felt the acute sting. Clenching her teeth as she lay afinger there again, a thin frost formed over the broken red skin, and the blood trickling down the side of her head stopped. Sighing in relief, she dropped back her head, allow herself to breathe slowly as she relaxed against the pine's trunk.

She stared down at her blood-stained coat and pants. By right, she should be freezing out here, due to her blood loss and the already icy weather. But instead, plunging temperatures were actually a comfort to her exhausted self.

The stained clothes still disturbed her of course. Placing a tentative hand on her ragged attire, she pushed a doubtful thought through her mind. Swirls of white appeared around her, weaving through the cloth. With a second, the blood against the black was gone, replaced with a clean set of uniform, only this was completely white – better for camouflage, she thought. She then gazed down at her hands, staring at the blue bareness, wondering if she should, well, make a pair of–

No, Olaf had said those were for hiding. Hiding only mattered to her when she didn't want them to know.

"But now they know," she told herself, a little surprised at her own epiphany. The time for hiding was long over, and if they called her monster, then let them. She couldn't care what they were going to say; not the tributes certainly, nor the Capitol.

Her fingers found the pin on collar. Unlatching it, she took a close look at it now. The black token stained her fingers slightly black – soot, she realized. A piece of home, literally.

Gazing intently at the crocus engraving, a single thought sent a frost coasting over and into the fragile air piece, ribbing into and on it, until the entire token had into a crystalline little pin.

She smiled a little as she reattached the gleaming ice pin to her shirt. If Kristoff was watching right now, he would probably be sulking. He had always been struggling with his ice carvings all the time, and considering she could form them so easily, he was probably envious. As for Anna, she would probably be a bit shocked, but excited, and she would admire how the flakes that she had created in her hands. She could imagine her strawberry blonde sister, jumping around in excitement and admiration, only to turn to Elsa, and the excitement would melt away, and then her elder sister, why she couldn't just tell her about this? And maybe she'll get mad and -

And maybe she shouldn't think about Anna right now.

Picking herself up, she decided to move on before she ran into another tribute. Not that she had doubts she could take anyone now.

As she trudged the snowy-white mountain, she breathed in each gust of icy wind. Her spirit was strangely soaring, though her body was battered.

Let the storm rage on. The cold never bothered her anyway.

* * *

**S/N:**

**That's the end of the Bloodbath. Sorry to those expecting an active Elsa POV, because I did try writing it once, and it was so disappointing I couldn't sleep after I wrote it, so everything that happened is largely seen through Jack's eyes. **

**Yes, Elsa changed her uniform. No, it's not her ice dress. It's just a white version of the uniform. **

**I'll be dropping Career POVs now and then, because it'll help in understanding what's happening in the Arena. So I hope you guys like them, or at least… not hate them. **

**Yep, Elsa's ice is the reason that I'm using to justify the small death count. If really there was someone making ice in a death-defining situation, you'd be distracted, even if only a sec. Full death recap next chapter.**

**Up Next: **

_**-And because that idiot was going to die-**_

"_**-**__**Flower, gleam and show- no, glow-"**_

_**-**__**raising three fingers to her lips, then holding it out towards -**_

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello, people. Hope you've been enjoying the story.**

**I'm pretty excited. The number of followers is nearing 50! Who-hoo! And the reviews are going to hit in 100 soon! Yeah! (Or maybe I'm just disillusioned) I've been thinking that of giving the 100th reviewer a prize (besides digital cookies), like a one-shot request based on this AU. Still thinking about it. If I pull through, I'll write the details next chapter.**

**Christmas is coming! Huzzah/Hurrah/Hurray! Maybe I can try to weave a Christmas theme into the next chapter! No, I'm kidding.**

**Mailbox:**

**A way to uncreative: I hope this chapter covers enough about the events at the Horn, at least the necessary bit. Of course, Elsa's ice is still going to play a role in the next events of the games. Hope you enjoy this!**

**ElvisRules41: Not weird at all. Elsa's best moments happen to those she goes a bit nuts… Sorry that there wasn't much of that here, though I think the others tributes are suitable wary of her. Not all popular people are athletes in my school I think. Oh wait…I think you're right…huh. Obviously, I don't fall in that category. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Awsomaniatica: Yep! Totally filled with random ice. And well, Jack saw pretty much most of Elsa's accidental and not-so-accidental actions. The question is; What does he do from here?**

**Riverfall: For this story, Jack doesn't have powers. He's very much mortal. Thank you for grieving for Wee Dingwall – his death is going to play a small, but vital role in Merida's future actions. Tooth and Rapunzel strike me as the type that would catch on immediately. They're such girls at times – correction, most of the time. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Anonymouslee: Thanks for following the story so faithfully (and finally reviewing. Seriously, reviews do wonders to one's mood. It's pretty weird actually). I'm glad that the last chapter moved you. It was lots of fun writing it, so I'm glad you enjoyed it. There's more to come that I'm looking forward to writing, and I hope that'd you'd enjoy this (though you may cry a little. Nah.) Thanks!**

**Guest101 (on chap 12): Okay, I guess y'all only read this when you reach this chapter. I hate making it official, the romantic pairings are; Hiccstrid, Flynnunzel, likely (but not promised) Jelsa. This does not mean they get happily-ever-afters, or that they'll even kiss. Yeah.**  
**For future minor characters relationships, just assume most stuff is canonical, because I like canonical.**

**mariemarc44: I'm glad that you didn't see that coming – not that I'm glad to kill her (she's a sweet person) or anything, but it had to happen. Hiro killing Hiccup – hey, that's a great idea! *Scribbles it somewhere, then pauses* oh, eh, hehe. Haha, your wishlist – cute idea. No love for Merida, eh? Your writing's really good. Chill, gal! I'm not really into Jelsa because I'm usually strictly canonical. Also, because I actually think Elsa's too mature for Jack, and that with both their heightened insecurities (though they overcome it at the end of their movies, but really? Insecurities never really leave), they might actually hurt each other a lot. However, I can imagine them as very close friends. Anyhow, in this story, don't worry, I think there's enough here to scream Jelsa (but still, no promises).**

**Thanks for the Reviews, guys!**

**See you in several days!**

**Review. Critque. Ask Questions.**


	17. Chapter 16: First Night

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 16: First Night

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Merida chewed the roasted rabbit meat absently. It had been her first kill in the Arena, and she had done it thanks with the help of the light bow that lay on her lap. She had been wise enough to cook only when the sun was up. Come evening, she had put out the fire and covered ashes. She had climbed up a strong maple and sat high on its branch, before she had allowed herself to indulge in her meal. The black pouch she had found at the Horn fortunately contained a little water bottle, half-filled, and she sipped a little cautiously. Tomorrow she would look for a new water source, but till then she would drink no more. Using the strap from the black pouch, she tied one leg securely to the branch she sat on, so she couldn't fall off when she slept.

The forest was cold, so she zipped her coat up, snuggly setting her back against the tree trunk as she swallowed the last of the meat. The night was already as black as coal, with nary a star, but the clear white moon did filter through the red leaves. She leaned back, and waited.

Sometime later, a small screen lit up the sky, projecting the Panem crest while the anthem roared victoriously in the background. The image disappeared to beginning the roll call of the dead.

The first face to appear was that of the bespectacled blonde girl from District 3. Next was a boy with a shock of yellow hair, and a blank expression.

Merida held back her tears. She had wept most of the afternoon already, and anymore crying was just going to make her more dehydrated than she already was.

The next few faces ran up: the girl from District 7 who honestly looked more like a boy, the muscular boy from District 8, the District 9 boy. Then the crest appeared once more, before the screen disappeared.

That meant only five were dead – exactly the number that died on in Bloodbath. That meant she still had eighteen competitors. Still, she was glad that the District 11 girl didn't appear. Sure, the lass was small, but she was definitely smart and probably sly. Much like herself.

She swung the quiver over a short branch above her, but her bow she hugged towards herself. Out of this entire game, it was the comfort she could have.

She had to win now, not that hadn't been her goal from the start, but now it was more crucial than ever. She promised herself that she would be a heroine; she would bring back honor to her district. This morning, she had made a slip-up. She had never meant for Wee Dingwall to pay for it, but he did. She owed it to his family; she owed it to her district. She didn't care how, but this time for sure, she knew that losing was not an option.

The last thing she remembered doing before dozing off was fiddling with the little pin that bore her family's emblem.

* * *

**Cornucopia Grounds**

She had slept for an hour or so after the announcement had played, but she quickly woke up when there was shuffling in the snow.

Taking up her axe, Astrid slowly rose to her feet, her eyes darting back and forth. The fire that she had built at the mouth of the Horn was still burning bright, casting shadows all over the metal walls inside. At first glance, all seemed as it was when she had left it, but in her gut, she knew that it wasn't. And her gut was very reliable.

Forcing herself to throw her shoulders back and give a yawn, she settled back on her comfortable spot near the fire, leaning back as she closed her eyes, resting the axe under her arm. And she listened.

As she had expected, there was a little rustling coming from her right, sounding just like someone who was searching through the heap of supplies behind. She allowed herself to take shallow breaths, and the thief became bolder; even allowing shifting around the metal weaponry - all the clanking and clinking, did the thief honestly think she'd sleep through that? Astrid truly pitied this idiot, because he or she was about as stealthy as a trumpeting elephant.

And because that idiot was going to die.

Without warning, she rolled over to her right, before leaping to her feet and tackling the thief. A twist of the arm, a kick and a rough shove later, the victim fell face first into the ground. She placed her foot firmly on the person's back, keeping him, or her, down. Her axe blade was raised high as she prepared to smite this pathetic little wimp of a thief.

Wait, _wimp_?

From the little light that reflected in the interior walls of the Horn, she could make out a scrawny, bony figure shaking in the shadows at the gleaming end of her weapon.

She almost fell back in surprise. "Hiccup?"

However, the voice that answered was unfamiliar. "Wha'?"

She supposed she could have brought down her blade there and then, but her curiosity got the better of her, so she lowered the blade and grabbed the thief by the back collar instead. With a single throw, she tossed him by the fireplace. He was about to scramble away, but she dropped her foot on his chest again, resting the tip of her blade at his chin. He squirmed, but didn't try to escape this time.

By the fire's glow, she could make his jet-black hair and large black eyes; the white around his corneas were strangled red. He was really scrawny, but somehow he lacked Hiccup's awkwardness in how he carried himself. Her eyes fell on the district number on his coat, before it shifted to his surprisingly well-bandaged leg. At least the explanation his clumsiness wasn't stupidity.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you, three," she hissed, pressing the cool steel against his jaw, causing him to jerk his head upwards in attempt to avoid it.

He just stuttered something incoherent for a moment or so. Astrid's forehead creased as she jabbed the point harder into him. She wondered why she couldn't just kill the miserable runt and get it over with. She did it easily enough this morning, but that was in the heat of battle. She liked the adrenaline; she like the rush that she got every time she flung herself into battle. But this? This was too easy, and this nerdy-looking boy was making her lose her temper.

Yanking his collar forward, she made a low growl as she lifted the axe, ready to smash it into his skull, when the boy yelled, "I can protect your supplies!"

She paused, narrowing her eyes at him, still holding up the axe. "You tried to _steal_ the supplies."

"And managed to get this far, which is precisely why you need to look after it better," he retorted with considerable snark, before flinching under her menacing glare. Gulping, he continued, "I can build you a fool-proof protection mechanism for supplies, so that no one can get to food stuffs. No one even needs to guard it."

"How?" She demanded, but she had to admit that this was intriguing. Guarding a pile of food was not productive use of manpower, and they needed as many people on the field to deal with the Ice Witch, and the Eleven-score girl.

Yes, she had that little confidence in her fellow careers.

"Mines." Seeing that she didn't understand, he added unhelpfully, "Mines underneath the tribute plates."

She raised her brow at him. "So?"

"They're deactivated now, but give me a minute with them, and I'll set up an impregnable defense system, completely automated." His eyes actually lit up when he spoke of it. It sounded like he really wanted to do this, even Astrid hadn't badgered – ahem, _threatened to cull_ him. "In a matter of fact, I can do it right now."

If it had been anyone else, Astrid would have whipped off the head immediately. But the boy had two things to his credit here: one, he was from the technological district of Panem, where everything from televisions to super-computers were built, so she had no doubts about his expertise in electronics; two, she had seen a similar expression on a brown-haired boy when he had tried to promote his '_baton cum taser cum tear gas grenade_' to a bunch of uninterested Peacekeeping officers.

The silence that followed did wonders to the boy's nerves, as he twitched uneasily under her cool gaze, his eyes flitting constantly to the weapon she rested so casually on her shoulder.

Finally, she lowered the axe, earning a relieved sigh from the boy. "The others are still searching a base, but I believe that we could use your …offer."

The boy snorted, but promptly shut up after she malignly raised her brows at him, her fingers still curled around the axe handle.

"Get up," she snapped at him, "and don't try running. Because you can't." She jerked her head his wound. She heard him muttering something under his breath. "What was that?"

"Nothing important," he replied pertly, limping slightly when he got to his feet. "Chill, lady."

"Shut up." She cuffed him roughly at the side of his head, and he yelped. "That's for sassing me." Dragging him by the collar, she shoved him down in the snow, outside the Horn. "You can start digging up the mines till the scouts come back."

"Now? In the dark? And the cold?" He actually managed to sound incredulous, in spite of his quaking voice.

"You offered to start right now," she threw his words back in his teeth. Picking up a small dagger from the rack, she tossed it to him. "Use that to dig."

She settled herself back in front of the fire, watching as he half-limped, half-trudged through the thick snow, groping in the dark.

"You should know I have perfect eyesight and aim, by the way," she called over the howling wind. When he turned back to glance at her, she patted the axe on her lap exaggeratedly.

Even in the black, she could see him roll his eyes before he shuffled along his way. She couldn't help but wonder why he dared to talk back to her even though he knew she was perfectly serious about killing him.

Or was she? There wasn't any reason why she wouldn't want to kill this boy, considering that they were complete strangers, yet she remembered how she deliberately held back the blade.

Doubts started creeping on the blonde girl, as she watched the blacked-haired boy, teething chattering, as he started groping into the snow.

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

"Looks like scar-faced didn't die after all," Tooth lamented wryly, before she blew a little on the red wood, then covering it the net of leaves they had made earlier. This was to prevent the ember's glow from attracting unwanted attention in the darkness, especially the Careers.

"Yes," her blonde ally replied, sounding rather relieved actually. That puzzled the District 10 girl, but she said nothing to that. "I guess your ally's alive too, huh? D-do you wan'na go find him?"

She noted that the girl's hesitation at the last line, and guessed that the she was afraid of being abandoned should they bump into her lanky, brown-haired district mate. So as an answer, she replied, "Nah. If he comes, he comes. Jack can look after himself_." 'As long as he has something to protect,'_ she added silently to herself. She prayed that he would find another ally along the way, preferably someone trustworthy, and perhaps weaker than him. That should do the trick.

A faint fog had descended on their quarter soon after the death recap end, which made it safe for them to make smoke their food as long as the flame stayed hidden. The blonde girl – Rapunzel, as she had introduced herself - had offered to do the cooking, using a stick to skewer the fresh chicken meat they had found amongst the supplies they picked from the Horn. Tooth had taken it on herself to stand guard. Occasionally, they would take sips from the frying pan, which they turned into a water carrier.

They had managed to gather quite a bit from Cornucopia grounds besides food stuff – a sling bag, blanket, a pair of gloves, a box of matches, even a pair of night-glasses. Tooth had recognized them immediately, since they had to wear in back home during nightshifts; they allowed the wearer to see completely in the dark. She wondered how many there were around the Horn.

If the Careers had any of such glasses, they could hunt at night without fire-light, and that meant that they could stalk their prey more stealthily. Her eyes rove over the serene-seeming trees before her, never letting down her guard. Rapunzel had insisted she take the gloves, so she used on now acted as a bandage to her injured left hand. Her right fingers were always twined around the handle of the blood-stained sword she had wrested from the Career that morning.

The blonde was saying, "So…"

"Uh-huh?" Tooth answered politely, her muscles still tensed.

"Are you called Tooth because you wear a tooth around your neck?" Rapunzel asked, then she flushed slightly, as if afraid she had offended her companion.

A smile tugged at corners of Tooth's lips as she gazed down at the tooth pendant around her neck – her token. "My full name's Toothiana, but this lateral incisor isn't not really related to my nickname. It's,"-she set herself down by the other girl, but kept the blade in her hand, - "it's a memory."

The green eyes of the other girl widened, while her hand unconsciously went to massaging the abrasion of her own forehead. "Oh? Is there a story?"

Tooth chuckled, "Yep. It's one of the first baby teeth I've ever lost. I was supposed to be cleaning up a chicken coop, but I ended up chasing the chickens around the field instead." She leaned back, fondly recalling that moment. "It was fun, though the poor chickens didn't agree with me." The blonde giggled at that. "Then, I ran smack into a poll and lost the tooth. My dad made me keep it as a reminder– to not play when I'm supposed to be doing work. But I've been wearing it so long, it's kinda like my memory box now." She glanced down at her token again. "I look at it, and I think of all the good times I've had while wearing it." She turned to her companion, eyeing the brooch the girl had pinned to her shirt sleeve. "What about you? What's the sun mean?"

"Oh, this?" The girl stuttered a while, fingering the crystal studded pin.

"It's really pretty," complimented Tooth, extending her hand forward. "Do you mind?"

Rapunzel removed the brooch and handed it to her. Tooth had to admire the exquisite design and the richness of its material. She knew she would never be able to afford to this, even she had managed to live her dream of being a dentist in the district.

"It's not mine – not really, anyway. My sponsors gave it to me."

"Oh." That made sense. Sort of. "I didn't think sponsors were the type who'd give gifts before the Games, though. Didn't your folks at home give you anything?" When Tooth turned the brooch over, she was surprised to find a little latch on its back. Intrigued, she fiddled with it, until it came loose.

"I-I," the other girl seemed ill at ease, even ashamed, "I don't have folks at home."

Tooth's head lifted in surprise.

The girl explained somewhat reluctantly, as she tugged on the long braid behind her, "I'm an orphan, so I don't have folks. As a matter of fact," she brushed a stray strand behind her ear, "I don't think I've _ever_ had folks."

Tooth was puzzled, even though she unconsciously fiddled with the brooch. "But that isn't possible. I mean, before you parents died-"

"I'm the only one with a blank record," the girl admitted, biting her lip before she continued. "_They-I-we-_I've no idea who I was, or who I am. They say I just appeared on the orphanage doorstep one day, but abandoning children's illegal." It was law in every district; mostly to prevent depressed mothers from dropping off unwanted children at already overrun homes. It had once been a common occurrence; especially amongst young women who couldn't bear the thought of knowing that the children they'd loved so may get ripped from them someday when they hit their teens.

As she listened, Tooth wondered if the Gamemakers had stopped airing their conversation. People all over Panem were watching after all, and they wouldn't people from different districts to accidentally know too much about life outside their own, or even about orphanage laws.

Apparently, the brooch was double-layered, and opening the latch allowed one to view the carved words inside. To get a better view of it, Tooth stood up, walking over to a spot where a little of the moon's light filtered through the trees.

"What about you? Don't you remember anything at all?" Tooth asked the girl, while she tried to catch some of the white light on the words. Eventually, she made out that there were two paragraphs, one on each panel. It seemed to be some children's poem, and it seemed vaguely familiar. Was it a nursery rhymes, or was it a song of sorts? She couldn't quite remember.

"Nothing, nothing at all." The District 8 girl sighed. Then she stiffened, sitting herself up slowly. "Well, actually, there's one thing I do remember – a little tune that gets stuck in my head sometimes. I don't know what it is though-"

"You hum it, or sing it. Maybe I'll recognize it," the other girl offered, though she was still half-absorbed in trying to work out why she knew this poem. If Jack was here, he would probably know. She knew that he was something like an expert when it came to all child-related stories or songs; he had learnt them for his sister.

"Well, okay." The blonde girl began to hum the tune, occasionally stopping to try to remember more of it, or correcting it when she felt it didn't sound right. The more Tooth listened, the more she felt a strange wave of familiarity creeping on her again. Then suddenly, she stared at the words on the panels of the brooch, and everything clicked.

"It's not a poem. It's a lullaby," she gasped, covering her mouth when at the moment she feared that she had said that too loud. There was no one in sight though, except a bewildered Rapunzel.

"What?" The girl asked, her blinking at her companion.

"This." Tooth shoved the opened brooch in blonde's hands. "It's a lullaby. I didn't remember it, until you started humming it. That's the tune!"

"What?" Rapunzel repeated, astonished as she gazed at the engraved words, then at the District 10 girl.

"Don't you see?" The girl exclaimed in excitement. "You just remembered your childhood lullaby. It's a clue! Well, if we get out here alive. But it's a clue, nonetheless. Now let's see, how does it go…"

She mulled for a moment, turning her back on the perplexed girl. Then Tooth started to sing, trying to fit the words with the tune, "_Flower, gleam and show_\- no, _glow_. _Let your power shine_ – or was it 'Let your power be mine'? Doesn't fit that well. _Make the clock reverse,__Bring back what once was mine –_ ah that's where 'mine' goes. Okay, _heal what has been hurt. Change the fate's design. Save what has been-_"

A soft but panicked cry from her companion made her spin back. Tooth's jaw nearly hit the ground when she saw a radiant, yellow glow emanating from the girl's blonde braid. It faded off in a second, but both girls knew that their eyes hadn't playing tricks on them.

"I swear I don't what just happened!" Rapunzel was anxious to make that clear.

Tooth was about to voice her own bafflement when she heard a creak in the woods. She turned around, peering through the fog, perking up her ears. Another rustle of leaves and heavy steps confirmed her suspicions.

Her companion was mumbling something while gazing down at her golden hair when Tooth interrupted her nervously, "Pack. _Now_."

Rapunzel glance up, surprised - not that much could surprise her as much as ten seconds ago. Tooth was on the ball and clumsily stuffing their equipment in the small sling bag they had, while scanning the forest every now and then. The girl was swearing under her breath.

"What's happening?" Rapunzel asked, as she stamped out the fire and picked her frying pan.

Tooth's expression was grim. "They saw the glow. They've got us."

The District 10 girl knew that she didn't need to explain who 'they' were, because the companion suddenly became as frantic as herself.

The girls were racing through the woods once more within seconds, sparing a glance behind them every now and then. The District 10 girl had slapped the night glasses over her eyes, taking Rapunzel's hand and led her through the darkness.

Behind them, they caught glimpses of fire. That could mean their hunters were incredibly stupid, or incredibly confident. Tooth knew which it was.

Their pursuers were far more athletic than themselves, and Tooth became increasingly aware that the wild yelling and hooting going on behind them meant that they would soon be overtaken.

Dragging Rapunzel behind a large shrub, she whipped off the glasses and handed it the alarmed blonde. She did likewise with the sling bag.

"Don't stop running," she told the girl, "and use the frying pan if you need to." Her fist clenched around the metal handle of her sword. "I'll buy you time."

"What? No!" The girl protested, clinging to her arm. Her green eyes had both fear and determination. "We can still lose them!"

"_We_ can't," Tooth disagreed firmly, removing the girl's arm. In a kinder tone, she said, "It was nice meeting you, Rapunzel."

The blonde girl shook her head, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but the older girl gave her hard shove. "Go!"

Eventually, she obeyed, putting on the glasses before speeding off. Tooth listened carefully for the pursuers, before picking a tree and climbing up. She perched one of its lowest branches, her sword poised high as she waited for the Careers. The glow of their torchers was coming nearer, and she could make out two figures; one whooping and howling as they sprinted past the trees.

She took deep breaths, resting the blunted end steel blade near her forehead, preparing her mind for the battle. She recognized the howling Career as Scar-face, and that brought a dark grin on her face. Maybe she could finally put him down.

She didn't have any training with the sword, true, but when she wanted to, there were a lot of things that Toothiana could do if she put her mind to it. And now, her mind was set on protecting the trusting blonde girl fleeing for her life.

She readied herself as her their thudding feet drew closer, half-standing as she prepared to launch herself in battle. When the Careers came running towards her tree, she sprung up, flying at them. Her throat released a fearsome cry as she swung the blade at their faces.

Jack wasn't the only guardian, after all. How else did they suppose she acheived her score of nine?

While thrashing hurriedly through the woods, Rapunzel's feet jolted to a halt when she heard a cannon shot in the air. She waited, and waited, but there was only one shot.

She didn't see their pursuers, but she was sure that there was more than one. And careers weren't ones to abandon prey, so that meant that…

She felt like breaking into sobs, but she couldn't.

Instead, she calmly removed her glasses, drawing herself up straight before raising three fingers to her lips, then holding it out towards the direction she had been running from.

Then, she slapped the glasses on once more, before continuing her mad dash through the forest.

* * *

**S/N:**

**And… some people would kill me again after this chapter.**

**And yes, there will be good people who will die, but I promise that their deaths at least won't be glossed over like they mean nothing. I can't stand it when that happens.**

**From some feedback, I've found out that most readers are probably confused when I just refer to District numbers and not names, so I made this for reference. An edited version also be on my bio page for future reference.**

**CHARACTER DISTRICTS AND DESCRIPTIONS (This includes death recap):**

**District 1: **

**M: Shen **_**(Kung Fu Panda 2)**_

**Main Feature: Dyed white-hair with red tips, pale-skinned**

**Weapon/s: Small daggers, dart and shuriken. Long Sword.**

**F: Gothel **_**(Tangled)**_

**Main Feature: Long, Curly Black-hair, Tall **

**Weapon/s: Long Daggers**

**District 2: **

**M: Hiccup **_**(HTTYD)**_

**Main Feature: Looks like a Fishbone etc.**

**Weapon/s: (Y'll see)**

**F: Astrid **_**(HTTYD)**_

**Main Feature: Blonde bangs, single braid**

**Weapon/s: Axe (She's the only one who uses an axe, if that helps)**

**District 3: **

**M: Hiro **_**(Big Hero 6)**_

**Main Feature: Spiky Black hair, Gangly**

**Weapon/s: (Y'll see)**

**F: Honey Lemon **_**(Big Hero 6)**_** \- DECEASED**

**Main Features: Glasses, Skinny, Tall, Blonde**

**Weapon/s: (Y'll see)**

**District 4: **

**M: Dagur **_**(Riders of Berk)**_

**Main Features: Scars across left eye, Red braid, Deranged expression (heh)**

**Weapon/s: Assortment, but largely - Large sword**

**F: Heather **_**(Riders of Berk)**_

**Main Features: Black bangs, Black braid**

**Weapon/s: Doubled-ended Spear**

**District 5: **

**M: Wee Dingwall **_**(Brave)**_** \- DECEASED**

**Main Features: Crazy Yellow hair, Blur expression**

**Weapon/s: ?**

**F: Merida **_**(Brave)**_

**Main Features: Curly red hair/mane**

**Weapon/s: Bow (duh)**

**District 6: **

**M: Turbo **_**(Wreck-it Ralph)**_

**Main Features: Pale-skinned, Small-sized, Mood-swingy**

**Weapon/s: Mace (inspired by the candy-spectre. I'm serious)**

**F: Taffyta **_**(Wreck-it Ralph)**_

**Main Features: Blonde cropped hair, Small-sized**

**Weapon/s: Mace (inspired by her lollipop. Still not kidding.)**

**District 7: **

**M: Stabbing Eye-Patch **_**(Tangled)**_

**Main Feature: Eye Patch, Red Sideburns, Large muscular built**

**Weapon/s: Sword**

**F: Stabbington No-Eye-Patch **_**(Tangled)**_** \- DECEASED**

**Main Features: Looks more like a guy than a girl (by virtue of being gender-bented by me), Red, Large muscular built**

**Weapon/s: Machetes**

**District 8: **

**M: Greno **_**(Tangled) **_**\- DECEASED**

**Main Feature: Muscular, big-sized**

**Weapon: Cleaver**

**F: Rapunzel **_**(Tangled)**_

**Main Feature: Long Blonde Braid**

**Weapon: Frying Pan, and (Y'll see, if you haven't already)**

**District 9:**

**M: Nameless boy - DECEASED**

**F: Nameless girl **

**District 10:**

**M: Jack **_**(ROTG)**_

**Main Feature: Brown-hair, Brown-eyes, Amazing good looks**

**Weapon/s: (Y'll see)**

**F: Tooth **_**(ROTG)**_** \- DECEASED**

**Main Feature: Petite Figure, Slender**

**Weapon/s: (Y'll see)**

**District 11: **

**M: Ralph **_**(Wreck-it Ralph)**_

**Main Features: Huge-sized, Large-hands**

**Weapon: (Y'll see)**

**F: Vanellope **_**(Wreck-it Ralph)**_

**Main Features: Dirty Black hair ponytail and hair slides, Small-sized**

**Weapons: (Y'll see)**

**District 12: **

**M: Hans **_**(Frozen)**_

**Main Features: Redheaded, Side-burns, Good looks**

**Weapons: Cross-bow and Sword (previously)**

**F: Elsa **_**(Frozen)**_

**Main Features: Platinum-blonde braid**

**Weapons: Erm…obvious much?**

**Hope it's easier after this. I'll try to use names more, and if I can't, I'll refer to their weapons or their features.**

**Up Next: **

_**-the fact it was a book piqued his interest-**_

_**-**__** the most beautiful thing that the blonde had seen-**_

"_**-The Careers are coming.-"**_

* * *

**A/N:**

**A Belated Merry Christmas to you all! Sorry for the slightly later update. Internet broke down, and it only got up today! Eventually when the year starts, my updates will become fewer and further between, so enjoy this time, yah.**

**Mailbox: **

**A way to uncreative girl: Thank you so much! Your reviews are always such a cheer! Aww, thanks for the ice cream (adds it to crushed oreos and ice, then put in blender, then drinks high-caloried drink)**

**ElvisRules41: Hiro's a genius, but several instances in the movie suggested that he's lacking in the common sense department so what (can't give example becos potential spoilers) – so for what happened in this chapter, he totally deserved it. The Career people and Gaston's mob have a lot in common, and I wouldn't even remove the torches and pitchforks … Anna's going to be a huge emotional turmoil – she's got so many crazy things happening for her. Sometime later I'll probably insert her POV somewhere about this. I'm glad Elsa's POV was enough. There are only so many ways you can describe ice-formations (my core four: ice wall, ice boulder, ice spikes, icicles. Tada!) Thanks for reviewing!**

**SmilingStarcat: Haha… winter and food…that's one of my favourite portions that come later. Can't tell you why yet… (but it's something to do with Jack) Thank you a lot for your feedback! I'll change my writing style(hopefully). It just that I feel uncomfortable when I keep using names over and over, but I'll get around it.**

**Awsomaniatica: Those who can challenge Elsa would, but those who can't will surely flee from her (well, most except…). I'll try to use names more often, sorry about the confusion. Yikes.**

**Guest: I'm really sorry, but I really can't promise Jelsa. I can only promise that the two would be close (yeah, vague). I'm not sure if what I'm writing is considered Jelsa (since all the Jelsa fics I've read were very sopp, sappy and kissy, and that's not really my angle for Jack and Elsa, - or even this story, in general) so really don't know. I'm sorry, but I do know how you feel. I treat httyd fics that don't have Hiccstrid in it that way – sadly.**

**mariemarc44: I completely agree with your points on Merida, but she does have a few redeeming points. Truth about Brave – it's my least favorite out of the all the films referenced in this fic alone (even against Big Hero 6 and Wreck-it Ralph, especially Wreck-it Ralph – I still think it deserved the 2012 Oscar, but nevermind) – but it has it's good moments (for me, it's the first ten minutes +), and I adore the song 'Noble Maiden Fair'. I guess your justification for Jelsa makes sense, though I'm reluctant to admit so. My guts doesn't like it much though. Thank you so much! There's going to be more suspense-full stuff in the future, so I hope you like what's coming.**

**Guest: Thank you very much! How you like what's coming.**

**Riverfall: I guess your reasons are very convincing for why Jelsa could work, but I guess part of the problem is that I'm very stuck on canonical stuff (ironically, I'm actually writing this huge crossover) and also because I found nice Jarida pictures on Deviantart (no, I don't ship Jarida. I couldn't even read a fic on it, because I was cringing too much). So I generally have mixed views about Jelsa. I can promise you however that Jack and Elsa are not going to be exactly just 'good friends'…**

**Thank you for your reviews guys! A belated Merry Christmas, and… Hannukkah? (I'm not really sure when it starts, or even if I spelt it right)**

**God Bless you one and all!**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	18. Chapter 17: The Calm Before

The Guardians Games: Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Calm Before

* * *

**Capitol - Lucky Cat Bar**

It was early in the morning, and the customers in the bar were few. Flynn Rider – or in his true name, Eugene - wasn't that concerned though. In his opinion, 'few' was good.

The bar had a breakfast menu, and he had ordered coffee and donuts, but he hadn't touched either of them after they had arrived. He was twitching to get himself an alcoholic beverage - the stronger the better - but he promised himself that he wouldn't. Not until it was over, at least.

She came strutting in around five-forty. Most of the Capitol was still asleep at this hour, and that meant that there wasn't much activity going on in the Arena, so now was a good time to meet. Even if something drastic happened, the television playing behind the counter was still playing the live feed of the happenings in the playing field.

By noting her ever-moving jaws, he wondered if there ever was a time she wasn't chewing on gum. Scanning around the room, she finally spotted him sitting in the innermost table, almost concealed by the draperies hung from the ceiling. She made a beeline towards it, before plonking herself down on a seat opposite his. The sky was still dark outside, so the glowing candles that lined ornate table would have made it a romantic atmosphere, if both parties didn't look so cross and exhausted.

"Help yourself." Flynn gestured at the pastry and coffee.

Gogo wasted no time in removed the gum from her mouth, then sticking it to the coffee cup. She dumped a teaspoon of sugar in the coffee, before saying, "This had better be good, Rider."

If this was an ordinary day, steeliness of her tone would have sent Flynn scurrying off to the Training Centre in fear, but Eugene was way too determined to let her cool gaze scare him off today.

He didn't beat around the bush. "I want an alliance. Your mentee and mine."

Gogo raised a brow as she took a gulp from her cup. Setting it back down on its saucer, she folded her arms and leaned back. "Let me guess. The sponsors backed out?"

His grimace confirmed her assumption. "Everyone's still a bit wary moving around… _mutants_." His reluctance to use the word was apparent. "Fortunately, the hubbub about Rapunzel's hasn't been as bad as the ice girl's."

The black-haired girl shook her bangs back, scoffing. "Yeah, her hair just glows when someone sings. I doubt the Capitol has anything to worry about her compared to a tribute who could freeze up the whole arena at will." Shifting herself slightly in the metal chair, she asked, "I assume that when you say 'alliance', you mean the whole deal, right?"

"What else?"

There was a brief pause as both their eyes went to the television screen, where the cameras showed a discussion at the Careers' base. In the background, Eugene noted that a small, black-haired boy was patting the dirt ground around a spectacular heap of supplies. One of the Careers yelled something at him, and the boy scowled, but didn't rebut. Struggling to stand, he limped over to another spot on the ground. His more-than-usual unkempt hair and the circles around his eyes showed just how truly haggard he was. One of the Careers shoved him aside, causing him to cry out as his hand went to his bandaged leg. The Career had no pity, demanding him to 'get back to work, scum.'

Spinning back to the taller man, Gogo told him shortly, "No."

Eugene seemed surprised at how final her answer was. "Wha-Well, why not? They'd work good together."

Gogo jerked her head at the television screen. "My mentee has undergone three potentially fatal incidents yesterday, and I think he's got problems on his plate without to hunt down some distressed girl hidden who-knows-where."

Eugene began protesting, "It doesn't have to be immediate, you know-"

"That's not the main problem," she cut him off as she dipped the donut into the coffee. "The thing is Hiro has a task to complete, and he doesn't need your, or even _my_, interference in how he decides to carry it out." Taking a bite of the soaked donut, she dropped rest down on the plate. "I'm not closing any deals. Sorry, Rider."

Just as she got to her feet, Eugene grabbed her by the wrist. "Wait!"

Normally, she would have punched him square between the eyes, but something in his desperate visage cooled her temper, so she lowered her arm instead. He pleaded – a manner that seemed out of place for his peacock-proud self, "C'mon, Leiko, as a friend. Help me help her."

Gogo gritted her teeth together, then she sighed and dropped in back in the seat. When he let go of her, she explained, "The issue here isn't friendship, or deals, or anything, Rider. Hiro's carry a huge burden here - there are only _five_, for crying out loud."

She muttered several obscenities before continuing. "A lot of the plans had already gone awry, and I don't want to stress him out. I know you're just trying to help your mentee, but try to understand," her hands balled into fists, her voice breaking slightly, "that I've already lost _two_ of my best friends in the Arena. I can't risk losing a third." The look she shot him was full of genuine sympathy. "Good luck in finding another way."

Before he had a chance, she had already whipped out her card and paid the electronic register attached to their table – he should have expected that, of course, given how independent she was. Taking only one more glance at the television screen, she rose to her feet and left the bar.

Picking up the remaining pastry and shoving it in his mouth, Eugene removed his electronic communicator from his vest pocket, and was surprised to note that there was already a reply to his earlier message. Opening it up quickly, he read, _'Why should I risk the entire operation to save some random blonde?'_

He typed back his message furiously. _'Because my intel and connections made this operation possible in the first place. You owe me.'_

There was a long pause, before an answer popped up._ 'Don't flatter yourself. I'm the one who's actually in the Game Centre.' _He had a retort ready, when another message came through. '_Why so frantic to keep this one alive? You didn't bother about the other three.'_

Flynn's answer was short and immediate. _'None of your business.'_

'_You care about this girl, don't you?'_ He could almost imagine a taunting grin behind it.

He thought for a while, before typing back, _'Would admitting such make you more inclined to do something?'_

'_Maybe...'_

Haltingly, he entered his answer, reluctantly hitting the 'send' button. _'She's important to me.'_

The following break was so long that Flynn was almost sure the person on the other end had hung up, but then a reply came through, _'I'll look into it, but no promises. If this one blows up in our faces again, we won't get another chance.'_

After the last message, Flynn spent many minutes inhaling and exhaling slowly, rubbing his temple as he considered his options. The memory of how terrified the blonde girl seemed as she fled from the Careers the previous night was still ingrained deeply in his head, though he valiantly fought to the image as he tried to process rationally.

When he finally got out of his seat, his jaw was tight and his eyes were dark. He began sending out an array of messages, which he was sure would be answered soon enough. His newest idea wasn't the surest either, but it could work if he played all his pieces right. All it took was some interrogating, some blackmail, and a whole lot of _thievery_.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

_'That's right, Gamemakers. I'm a small, unimportant kid who's just making something boring from a bunch of wooden objects. It's okay, you don't need to keep the cameras on me. Why don't you take your time? Maybe go and film the others killing – um, doing their thing? Don't need to watch me. Don't need to bother me. Please, please don't bother me...'_

It was all in his head, and he was glad he hadn't accidentally said anything out loud, because, well, they'd probably send a charging bull in his way just to spite him.

The summer quarter was supposed to be warm, but sometimes the temperatures would suddenly plunge in shadows, then the minute he stepped into the light he would become horribly hot all over again. It was the perfect weather to catch the flu, and he rather dreaded that. It would just embarrassing if he died from a cold.

Throughout his travels deeper and deeper into the rocky hills and forests, Hiccup hadn't encountered any tributes this morning or last night, and for that he was thankful. He knew he wasn't the smallest in the set, but he was still one of the most vulnerable. Well, hopefully the wooden weapon on his lap would change that, if nothing else.

It was a refined version of the handheld catapult he had built in during the judging session, and he was quite pleased with it so far. It was much smaller and lighter than the previous model, but could shoot heavier objects, and further too. Now he quite regretted that he didn't pick up any weapons at the Horn. It would be cool if he could shoot a spear from his catapult (well, if he could even lift one) – or a crossbow bolt (then he should have just taken a crossbow - wait, he couldn't lift it long enough to aim it) – or some _daggers_…

In his brain, an alarming image suddenly burst forth; depicting the shiny silver blade, stained in sticky crimson, sticking out of the dying girl's stomach-

He lurched forward, making retching motions, covering his mouth as a precaution. Seeing that he wasn't going to be sick after all, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat himself down damp, rotting old log. He hadn't taken that long to build the catapult, but he suddenly felt very exhausted. He glanced down at his remaining materials; some left over rope and nets, one of two nails, his tool box and the red bag.

As he rolled the nets and rope again, he paused a moment to stare at the bag. He hadn't the time to examine it yesterday, since he had been caught up in searching for water, and foraging for berries and bark to eat (he had to admit the bark agreed with him more than the berries did). Scanning around himself first, he laid his catapult on by his side before picking up the bag. It wasn't really red anymore, since he had spent a good part of yesterday smearing it with mud and berry juice to diminish its glaring reddishness – he was a walking target, but he didn't need to make himself an _obvious_ walking target.

Unzipping it, he was surprised to find no food whatsoever in the bag, but instead more strange materials; a coils of metal wire, thin, but strong; several vials of strange chemicals, strapped into a leather case; a kind of transparent breathing mask of sorts that he could easily slid over his face.

Then, there was the strangest object of them all. It was fairly thick, leather-bound though not particularly heavy.

It was a book.

Everything in the Arena was supposed to help you in survival, some way or another, but a _book_? Sure, being loner and nerd, books helped him pull through his humiliating existence in District 2, but _this_ was just weird. How far up was this on Marlow's Hierarchy of Needs?

Still, the fact it was a _book_ piqued his interest.

Unconsciously, the hand that rested on his wooden weapon now slid underneath the leather cover, while the other opened the book. Flipping the page, he started at the front first. His eyes automatically rested on the content page, as he silently mused to himself, his fingers running across the lines.

"_Strike Class. Fear Class. Mystery Class-"_

* * *

**Winter Quarter – Lakeside Cave**

Jack's situation was surprisingly peaceful. Almost comfortable.

He was huddled up near a small fire he had made this morning, warming his frozen fingers. Not far away, he had rested his fishing rod on a nearby stone. Every now and then, he would return to check on it, or to at least burrow open the hole in the frozen lake again so that the fishing line didn't get stuck. Within half an hour's time, he had caught two carps and had them roasting over the fire after he cleaned it.

The fishing rod and lighter hadn't appeared out of thin air - they had _dropped_ out of thin air. Last night, he had managed to find an empty but very cold cave to sleep in. He had only left it for a moment to watch death recap, when he had found something had been deposited right at the cave mouth - a gift from his sponsors, he had realized when he saw the small parachutes attached.

The first gift was a lighter, which he had thanked the heavens - and Bunnymund - for, since making a fire without a starter was painful in wintertime. The second had been a fishing rod, with a note attached, _'RACK OFF, YOU BLOODY SHOW PONY._'

Considering he was supposed to be a show-off in these games - more of his looks than his skills, honestly - he hadn't the faintest idea if that was a note was an encouragement or a rebuke. Whatever happened, thanks to the gifts, he had slept soundly throughout the night without interruption.

After he had eaten his fill, he quickly put out his flames, lest any wandering tribute happen to see the smoke. He was still freezing, so he rubbed his hands together. He hoped that Bunnymund would take the hint and maybe send in some gloves, or even a nice woolly overcoat. He had to have throngs of sponsors, right? A pair of gloves couldn't be that expensive compared to a fishing rod.

Gazing out of the cave into the glaring white snow, an alarming sight greeted him. Shading his eyes, he stepped out cave to squint through the glaring snow. In the distance, he could make out a steady stream of greenish-yellow smoke rising lower down the mountain. It was so large and smoky he didn't doubt that it could be seen across quarters. Jack cocked his head towards it, confounded. It would take a fool to burn so blatantly and brightly – he'd give his position away to other tributes, especially the Careers. _Unless…_

Colored smoke - it was a _signal_.

He didn't know what the signal itself meant, but it couldn't be good. It seemed that he would have to approach the girl sooner than he thought. He supposed that as long as he didn't end up being chopped up into sashimi this time, he could consider himself lucky.

Pocketing the lighter and grabbing the fishing rod, he stamped out the last of the glowing embers before leaving the cave. As he readied himself for a very long and tiring hike up the mountain, a faint pinging sound from the cave mouth caught his attention once more.

Just like yesterday, a little parachute was sitting there, waiting eagerly to found. Jack grinned as he approached it, imagining that his pair of gloves had arrived, but the smile fell away when he discovered what it was.

Picking up to the pair of metal blades, he dryly asked the sky, "Seriously?"

The sky didn't oblige a reply.

"The snow here is like three feet thick, and I'm on a mountain," he continued, as if the silence was a sign of being heard. "You could have at least sent them with boots on. Not" – he pointed at the offending metal blades – "strap-on skates. C'mon!"

There was obviously no response, but he guessed that his complaint would amuse some, and possibly irritate his mentor. He had slung the skates – if one could just call those small metal blades 'skates' - over his shoulders with the fishing rod before he noticed that there was note in the parachute container. Picking it up, he unfolded it.

_I HOPE YOU'RE PLEASED. – B_

Jack blinked, scrunching up his face as he deliberated on what his mentor could possibly mean – after all, he did do a whole lot of stuff that he wasn't supposed to do already: spare a boy's life, track down a mutant ice-powered girl, shout at the sky…

"You have to be more specific!" He told the sky again, waving the slip wildly. Thinking of his flabbergasted mentor's response to that brought a chuckle up his throat, and suddenly he was in a good mood again. With a lofty grin, he dragged himself through the snow, heading towards to the mountain's peak.

* * *

**Winter Quarter – Mountain Foot**

The three Careers resting at the camp were all at in entirely different states of mind.

Heather was in one of vigilance. She had her spear constantly in hand, glancing around the thick snowy forest every now and then, just in case some ferocious ice monster came running along. Gothel, on the other hand, was extremely relaxed. She was cooking up 'brunch' for them, since she was the only one of them who actually knew how to cook. She was engaged in conversation with Hans, the most reluctant member of the Career Pack. He was rather uncomfortable, especially at how Gothel kept simpering coquettishly at him, but he stayed civil. Both ladies could rip him in shreds the less than a minute if they wanted to.

Heather was the first to spot the approaching Careers and informed the others. She ran forward to greet them, but was only cold-shouldered by the leading blonde girl, and received morose expressions from the two boys trailing behind.

"Well, top to the morning to you too," Heather remarked dryly, flicking back her black bangs from her eyes.

Astrid's face, which had only been dark so far, turned positively livid at the sight of the boy with sideburns. Without a word, she marched over to the talking boy and punched him in his injured ribs. The boy doubled over, sliding off the stone that he had been sitting on. Gothel drew herself back in shock, while Heather only raised her brows. The two boy Careers were still in a rather surly mood, so they ignored the exchange while they dropped the metal bottles and torches they had been carrying on the ground, then warming themselves by the fire.

"You signaled on purpose, didn't you?" Astrid shouted at the cringing boy. "You were _warning_ her!"

"Astrid, dear," Gothel interrupted, in what was somewhat motherly, mostly patronizing tone, "I told him to light it. We needed back up. Now, please calm down and try not to ruin his nose. I like it just where it is." That earned a look of disbelief from the redhead boy. "Don't you worry, dearie. The ice witch isn't going anywhere."

"What do you mean?" Astrid demanded curtly, though she allowed the District 12 boy to crawl back to his seat.

Gothel didn't answer, simply humming a little tune as she continued to stir the soup in the pot. She gave a sidelong glance to the moody-looking boys, then back at the short blonde. "Isn't there anyone guarding the base camp? Or don't we have one?"

"We do," the District 2 girl answered, giving Hans one last threatening glare before setting herself on a nearby stone. "A nice spot under a cliff face in the Spring Quarter. Nearby a river too."

"So who's guarding?"

"The boy from 3's handling it," was Astrid's answer before she took her own canteen of soup. After nearly an hour of alternating between trekking and running in the freezing cold, the warm liquid flowing down her throat felt very good.

"Other one? When I said that we needed hands, I didn't mean spare _everybody_," Gothel remarked at her, before smiling slightingly. "Ah, well, I suppose we aren't _all _perfect." Astrid cocked her head towards the older girl, sending a dark look, but the other girl simply wore an innocuous expression as if there were no derision in her words.

"The techie was pretty useful, though." Dagur suddenly broke his sulky silence. "He set up quite an impressive defense system."

"Besides," Astrid cut in, her blue eyes boring into the District 1 girl, "I thought we might need full manpower. Since, after all, you thought that this important enough to set up a signal fire _and tell everyone in the Arena where we are right now_."

"Where did you both get those wounds?" Heather asked the two boys, hoping to change the conversation topic. Right now, the tribute count was too high for them to erupt in full-blown conflict yet.

Dagur grunted, sullen all over again as he gazed blackly at his new bandages. Shen, however, was more willing to share. "During scouting last night, we came across the girl from District 10. She put up quite a fight."

The scarred boy added several inaudible curses at that, folding up his arms, pouting. The white-haired boy shot a questioning glance at him, before continuing, "Her form was terrible, but her spirit was admirable. It didn't take me long to put her down."

"So that's where the cannon was from." All turned towards to the District 12 tribute, giving him pointed glares. He quickly dropped his own gaze, staring down at the snow as they resumed their chat.

"However," Shen went on, though in a lower voice. "_He_ received quite a number of blows from her, in some especially _sensitive_ areas." His eyes darting pointedly at the ill-humoured boy, an amused expression appearing on his own face. "He's still rather …_sore_, about it."

Heather giggled slightly, but turning it quickly into a cough when Dagur looked up again. She knew him well enough to know that he often went into vicious rages – berserk, they called it, and knew better than to tempt him. They didn't call the boy 'deranged' for nothing.

Astrid spoke next. "You still haven't told me how you know that the ice witch isn't going to run," she reminded the tall girl, who adding some salt to the soup now. "Why are we still here, anyway? We should be hunting her down, not sitting around talking."

"Patience, child." Gothel's voice was a mixture of condescension and scorn.

Astrid narrowed her brows. "Don't call me that. You're not my mum."

"Obviously. You're much too aggressive for that," Gothel retorted maliciously, though her expression remained calm and poised.

The blonde looked like she was going to hack off the black-haired girl's limbs, when finally Heather put in, "Climb a stone, then look towards your right. You'll see _it_ then."

Though her face was as black as thunder, Astrid's curiosity got the better of her, so she did as the black-braided girl had suggested. Shifting her eyes towards the right, she couldn't stop her jaws from dropping.

Far in the distance, on the peak of the highest snow-covered mountain, a large ice structure gleamed blue and pink in the morning sun. It was possibly the most beautiful thing that the blonde had seen since entering the Capitol.

It was a castle made entirely of _ice_.

* * *

**Winter Quarter – Mountain Peak**

With her powers, you'd think she'd get everything right. She had managed to build her own fort of defense – well, not just for defense, but rather comfort and aesthetic satisfaction. She had managed to treat her own wounds, evidence being her scarred but otherwise clean head and arm wounds. But that's where it stopped.

Elsa had left the ice castle for early in the morning to go hunting. Making a snare exactly the way she had learnt it during the training sessions - which meant out of wood only -she had managed to catch a small cotton rabbit. Though her heart hadn't really into it, she had slain the poor beast as quickly as possible with a sharp wooden stick she had found. Then, and only then, had she crafted a snow knife to skin her game. Gathering some firewood, she had taken her kill and her kindling back to the castle.

It was only when she had dropped all her items on the crystalline table that she had just willed into existence, had she realized the main issue.

She was going to _cook_ her breakfast. By starting a _fire_. In a castle of _ice_.

Considering that she had been spending a good part of her life concealing her powers, she didn't really know what would happen. Maybe the ice would be strong enough to withstand the heat, or maybe she'd find herself in a flooded mess, rolling off the mountain with her castle as her surfboard.

There was only one way to find out, so she created a little fire pit in the ice ground, then lay the wood in it. She shut her eyes, trying to remember the exact steps, before she picked up a stick, driving one of its points in to a piece of bark. Rubbing the stick furiously, she remembered to move her arms up and down. However, all that happened was that all the wood suddenly gained an extra coating snow.

With a groan, she pursed her lips together as she brushed off the snow, trying again. In the passing minutes, she grew increasingly frustrated, as more and more snow just kept piling up.

She heard a light chuckle, followed by a cheery voice, "It'll never catch on."

Immediately, she spun herself to her feet, whipping a barricade of icicles around her. Her body shifted towards the origin of the voice, and she willed a set of spikes to surround that area, allowing them to slowly grow upwards and outwards.

"Whoa! Whoa! _Time out_!" The intruder called out in panic. It was the pretty boy from District 10. In one hand he carried a fishing rod, and the other a pair of skates. He then paused as he examined the gradually growing ice spikes, tapping one tip with his finger, then drawing it back sharply when it started to bleed. "Wow, you make them good." He peered closely at her. "Hey, I like what you did with the clothes. White's good on you."

She knew she was expected to kill him, but something stayed her hand. She hadn't heard him come into the castle, so chances were that he had snuck in while she was out – she made a note to create something guard against such happenings from repeating later. But if he had been watching her so long and hadn't attacked, perhaps – perhaps, he didn't meant any harm. _Yet_. "What do you want?"

"I'm here áto warn you," he said, backing away discretely from the sharp stalacmites that surrounded him, only to hit his back against the ice wall. "The Careers are coming."

Was that all that he had? She had already guessed that on her own. "I know that. Let them come. I'm ready for them."

"You don't understand. I spied on their camp. All five – no, six of them are coming. And they're ready for you too."

"What are you doing here, Ten?" She cut in, raising her eyebrow warily at him.

The boy looked rather annoyed at how he had been addressed. "Name's Jack. I've introduced myself before, remember? Didn't anyone actually get around learning the names of other tributes? At all?"

"Well, what's my name?"

"Elise!" He answered without hesitation, but the plaintive look she gave him led him to try again. "Ella! No, Ellis! Urgh..." he scrunched his face as he thought, before pleadingly asking, "Elsie?"

She shook her head at all tries, her suspicion fading away into vexed bafflement.

The boy leaned his head back against the ice wall, saying something under his breath. All she caught from his mutterings were 'deserved that' and 'dubbing people angel'.

Against her better judgment, she lowered her arms, but didn't draw back the spikes. "It's Elsa."

The boy laughed triumphantly, almost cutting his arms at the icicles when he punched the air. "I knew it started with an 'El'!"

She only hardened her glare. Finally, she repeated her question, "What do you want, Jack?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He answered, grinning cheekily at her. He had very nice teeth, she noted, and the mischief gleaming in his blue eyes was rather alluring. No wonder he became the Capitol's darling the minute he went on parade.

Raising her arms again as a precaution, she told him, "No, it isn't."

"Simple. I want an alliance with you."

She scoffed at that. "Well, why would _I_ want to ally myself with _you_? In case you haven't noticed" – she formed a snowflake within her open palm – "I'm pretty self-sufficient." With that said, the snowflake morphed in an ice dart, and it flew across the room, breaking when it struck the wall, but not without cracking it first.

The boy, Jack, opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, rubbing his lip as he thought. His eyes then fell to the icy floor of the castle, before his face lit up. "You can't cook, can you?"

He had her stumped. _Again_.

"Just to let you know, I've already had two cods this morning," he added with a sly grin. "Roasted them over a fire. Absolutely de-licious." Elsa felt like drooling, but she was far too reserved to show it. "Oh, and the fire stoking technique? It only works in dry weather." He knew he got her at that point, and he was smirking triumphantly away.

She dropped her arms, sighing as she gazed at the snow covered fire pit, then back at the boy.

"_You know you need me_," Jack said in a sing-song voice, tugging playfully again the icicles around him.

She turned away from him for a moment, contemplating her options. On one hand, it was extremely risky to take on ally. It was said that at one point the Careers wanted him in their Pack, which meant he had some skill in battle. He could back-stab her anytime, especially since she couldn't kill him with her ice. On another hand, while arrogant and imprudent, he seemed to a decent fellow, and she really needed something to eat. Raw meat, even if chilled, somehow wasn't that appealing.

Besides, even though he knew about her powers, he still tried making a connection with her. He didn't see her as … a _monster_.

When she looked down at her hands, for a brief moment another worry surfaced. But what if she ended up hurting him? Not that that was supposed to a bad thing, in the Games…

Crackling sounds and low calls outside the castle stole her attention, and she found herself running to the balcony, peering downstairs. A quick scan confirmed her thought. The Careers were here. And that wasn't the worst part.

Every single one of them bore a torch, glowing and burning bright orange. Some of them crossed the bridge leading to the castle, hurrying to the castle walls before splashing some transparent liquid over them. One was stacking metal tin bottles near another part of the castle wall, but not before opening another can of clear liquid containing the clear liquid and pouring over the bottles. When they withdrew from the castle across the bridge, another one of them tossed her torch at the liquid, then another at the metal cans.

When liquid burst into the flame, so did the walls, in spite of the sharp cold. When the flames started licking around the metal cans, there sometime before a sudden explosion shook the castle, throwing her back into the room. She could hear the chandelier above her shaking and the walls below her cracking.

"They're here, aren't they?" She heard the boy stuck in the icicle prison say. "We have to go."

"Yes," she answered absently, not noting his use of 'we'. She could fix the castle, certainly, but what good would it be? If she could only use her powers in defense, the Careers' bigger numbers would eventually overwhelm her. She took one more glance at the attackers before preparing to flee.

But then her eyes caught sight of something - or rather someone – and her feet froze to the ground.

"Hey, Ice princess? I'm pretty chill at the moment, but I don't want to die by ice, or fire," Jack called across the room, but she didn't hear him. She was far too busy controlling her emotions of both disbelief and rage.

For she had seen the boy with sideburns marching up the ice steps, the burning, blazing flame in his hand matching the warm red of his hair.

* * *

**S/N:**

**I didn't see any phones in the THG films so far, so I'm just calling them 'electronic communicators' . Who can say what phones would be called in the future?**

**Hiccup's POV has a very obvious foreshadow to big storyline. Yep.**

**I'm sure y'll have a good guess what Bunnymund's latest message meant, even if Jack doesn't.**

**Yes, Elsa built an ice castle. Smack in the middle of the Arena. Get over it.**

**So Jack and Elsa finally meet on the Arena. What would come of it?**

**The clear liquid is kerosene, and the metal bottles contain aerosol (they can be containing stuff like pest repellent, or maybe face paint for camouflage, or disinfectant, use your imagination. ) So for here, the kerosene is what catches fire and the aerosol explodes is what explodes. Who came up with this idea? Not that important, but in my head it's Hiro who gives Astrid the idea by accident (not writing it in).**

**Up Next: **

"_**-**__**You can't take us all this time, Ice Witch!-"**_

"_**-Previous victim here. Who're you?-**_

"_**-But aren't we children?-"**_

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hey guys. My school is killing me. I hate epistemology. If you've never heard of the word, good for you. **

**New Year's coming. Unlike Christmas, it's really not my favorite. They're just a reminder that I'm growing old. **

**Oh, yah, I'm not going to do the 100****th**** review thing after all, because by the time it happens, I'll be strapped in the electric chair called school. I'm grateful for an education, but it's just tiring sometimes.**

**Mailbox: **

**A way too uncreative girl: Thanks for liking the chappie! I notice that you're always one of the first few to review, so I really thank you for that! **

**Guest: Sorry. I'm quite a hardcore canon shipper. I'm already a bit reluctant on pulling off a Jelsa here, so Hiccelsa is definitely way off what I'm gonnado. Besides, I've planned out most of the story, so I can't change it. Terribly sorry.**

**QueenElsaofArendelle1934: (chap 7) Yep, I did put them in Districts acc. their films (except for Gothel and Shen). One reason for that is to give acknowledgement to their original films – it something some crossovers miss, and boy it is easy to; the other is because it makes my job easier when I write the sequel (whoops, did I say that.) Fred and Gogo both have their roles as secondary characters, more Gogo than Fred though (though Fred may have it bigger in the future). Baymax has his own place too, though I'm not sure how amusing it would be. (chap 17) As for romance between Jack and Elsa, no promises, but as you can tell from this chappie, something's happening for them both (maybe an alliance, maybe frienemies, who can say?) Action would be coming somewhere in the next chappie – but I'll admit action writing isn't my strongest point. Oh – who says Jack and Elsa will survive till the end? Thanks for reviewing!**

**Awsomaniatica: Astrid's conflict is going to play a big role in this entire fic – she'll always caught between wanting to win and not being completely pre-disposed to evil, and later on something else (Hint, hint!). Well, Punzie's gonna take some time to work out the other ability. For Tooth, I had her method of death planned very early in the story, which is sad, but I kinda wanted to show how heroic and brave she is/was – because she is a guardian, duh. It's also because I'm trying to establish Punz as a parallel to another THG character, but I'm thinking I'm failing… Thanks for your review!**

**ElvisRules41: Not the pitchfork, as you can see here, but I hope exploding aerosol is enough to keep things exciting. The Anna POV that I will write (eventually, someday, in about 5 chappies from now? Can't promise.) will definitely have Kristoff, because he's such a wonderful guy. And Anna must learn that.**

**Thanks for reviewing. I really appreciate them.**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	19. Chapter 18: Breaking Point

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 18: Breaking Points

* * *

**Winter Quarter – Mountain Peak**

"Not to pry or anything, but what happened to running?"

"Discarded," Elsa told him shortly, as she sealed her balcony door shut, icing up the gap. Whether she noticed or not, ice spikes began forming along the pillars of the crystal hall.

Jack's voice was alarmed - which was reasonable, since she had yet to release him from his icicle prison. "Are you _crazy_!"

"Perhaps," was all she answered, before she tore out of the hall, racing down the stairway.

The ice palace had two floors, the lower level being larger of the two. The door of lower level also was also directly connected to spiral ice stairs that stood over the crevice around the castle, which was why her first move was to sealed the entrance doors up.

However, two of the Careers – she could only vaguely make out their shapes through the ice, had begun hacking through the door. A moment later, the dark shapes at where the ice door once was disappeared. She half-wondered if they had given up trying to break in, when the ice wall suddenly exploded open, flinging herself back. Coughing, she waved away the mist and smoke, picking herself quickly out of the crystalline rubble.

The first to come through the door was the scarred boy from the fishing District. He charged head-on first, lunging with his humongous blade, but she wove herself out of the way in time, so that all that he struck was the ice wall. With a thought, she quickly formed a block of ice over his sword, integrating it into the walls, preventing him from yanking it out.

Whilst that Career was occupied in retrieving his weapon, she found herself dodging well-placed slashing from the axe-wielding girl of District 2. She managed to freeze the girl's axe to the ground at one point, but the girl's strength allowed her to free it just as fast.

"You can't take us all this time, Ice Witch!" the blonde girl snarled through clenched teeth, as she swung her axe, only to hit the ice boulder Elsa had constructed that second. "Not if you can't kill us!"

The girl was right. Too right. Besides her own ice, there was nothing she could kill them with, since she didn't have a single weapon. She could try stealing theirs, but she doubted the Careers would let her get hold of them. Even then, she didn't actually know how to use any weapons.

Though she was simmering on the inside, she forced herself to stay rational; to keep the ice in check. The Gamemakers had let her off easy the first time, but if she broke the rule, they would have no choice but to take action against her this time.

She was starting to really regret not running when she could. She could have built another ice bridge from her balcony perhaps, and run off from there, but she foolishly chose to stay. However, seeing a boy with a crossbow at the crumbling doorway reminded her why.

"_You_! How dare you come here!" She bellowed in fury, almost forgetting about the Career girl, ducking just in time to avoid a swerving double-blade. Hans had flinched back at her accusatory cry, but then hurriedly lifted the bow at her, firing. His aim was way off, however, and the bolt just whizzed past the Career's head instead.

"Watch it, moron!" The shorter girl's concentration broke for a moment to berate the District 12 boy. Taking opportunity of the distraction, Elsa willed a large ice club into her hands, swinging it against the Career girl, sending her crashing into to Hans. Both of them tumbled backwards onto the ice floor. The last three Careers were clambering in through the impromptu entrance way, so Elsa made it for the ice steps, back to the second level.

"Hey, _Frost Monster_!" One of the Careers called out. "You can't keep running! We can, and we will get you!"

She hustled up the steps, her heart racing as she heard their steps clanking against the ice. She could call down a boulder of ice to shield herself, but if it dropped on to a Careers and crushed him or her, would it be said that she broke the rule? She considered sending an icy blast their way, but what happens if one of them slipped on the steps and broke his neck in the process? Would that be considered a death by ice, or by circumstance?

She was beginning to really hate the rule.

When she dashed into the ice hall of the second floor, she wasn't surprised to find that Jack had been working his way out of the prison by sawing the ice spikes with his metal skates. Blushing that he had been caught red-handed, he step-sided that subject good-humoredly. "So, how's the defense plan going?"

"Badly," she admitted, as she positioned herself in the centre of the hall, her muscles tensing as she prepared for the coming attacking.

"Oh, _that's_ assuring," he quipped dryly, before he began slicing the icicles with new-found vigor. "Care to set me free?"

She opened her mouth to explain that, _no, she couldn't_, but the tributes from District 1 came running in. She knew it was useless, but she still warned them - or perhaps since they could kill her, and she couldn't kill them, it was a plea. "Stay back."

The boy – she remembered that his district mate had called him Shen – moved first, with a curtain of knives and darts flying towards her. She had shut her eyes at that moment, half-expecting her body to be riddled with the millions of blades, but when she opened them again, she was startled to find that she had drawn up the boulder up in time; every single blade caught in the sheet of ice.

"Go 'round her. C'mon!" she heard the girl tribute say, as their feet skirted across the glassy floor.

Both tributes began circling around her from opposite directions, their weapons held up high. Elsa kept her arm poised high, ready to react to the slightest move.

She noted from the corner of the eye that the District 1 girl was about to release a dagger from her palm, so she struck first. A well-aimed icy blast removed the knife from the surprised girl's grasp, before the Career found herself pinned to the wall by a dozen ice spikes, but none into her flesh. A carefully formed icicle grew towards her throat area.

"You can't kill me with _that_, you know," the girl growled, though she backed up to the wall again, staring at the gleaming tip.

"No, but it's not really her fault if you lean in too much, and get impaled _by accident_." The attentions of the battling tributes were suddenly taken up by the browned-haired boy who cheerfully prying off the broken icicles from his cell. Observing that the black-haired girl was watching him with much incredulity, he greeted her cordially, "Hey there. Previous victim here. Who're you?"

While that boy continued hacking away the icicles with his skates, Shen had made his next move. With several shuriken started flying before him, he charged forward at the same time, his curved blade above him. Elsa had a shield of ice ready, catching every dart, but Shen had danced around the ice gracefully, sweeping his blade from the side instead. Elsa shrunk herself backward in time, but his close proximity already put her at a disadvantage, and he knew that. There were million ways she could kill him now, but every one that she could think of all involved ice.

"Consider this a gift." Shen gestured to his blade, advancing a step for every one that she took backwards. She drew up an ice wall, but he sliced it to splinters coolly, continuing his monologue, "Well, a _parting_ gift. In that _it_ will part _you_." He offered her a cold grin. "Part of you _here_," his blade managed trimmed edge of her braid, while she could only drawback in shock as it became undone. "Part of you way _there_." The blade slashed across her chin, and she gave a yelp, raising her hand to it immediately. She shot an ice blast at his feet, but her over-wariness in aiming it gave him time to step around it. "And part of you _waaaay_ over _there_-" his head tilted to the side, an psychopathic craze in his eyes "-_staining_ the wall."

She could vaguely hear the District 10 boy yelling something, but it was just a buzz in her ears compared to her own thumping heart. The white-haired boy gave her a dark smile, his eyes widening with pleasure at her evident terror. The curved sword was pointed right over her heart, and she forcibly relaxed her breaths, trying to put as much distance between her and the deadly blade. So great was her fear that at that moment she was readied her arms behind her, prepared to break the rule should she need to.

Suddenly, the sword clattered to the floor as Shen grabbed his side, groaning in pain. She quickly pushed him away, freezing his feet, only to find that it was a bolt that pierced his side. Her head jerked up to the doorway, where Hans stood with a crossbow in hand, sighing in relief. He gave her a firm nod.

She was mystified as her mind was thrown in a whirl, as she unwilling tried to replace the words 'traitor' with 'savior'. That was why her brain barely registered Hans suddenly collapsing himself, before the black-braided girl tribute of District 4 removed her spear from his crumbling form. When her nervous system finally relayed the message, a silent scream escaped Elsa's lips. Her hand extended helplessly toward the injured boy. The black-haired attacker just shook back her bangs, before charging with spear in front of her.

Snapping back into reality at the last moment, Elsa drew up an ice shield to protect herself, but her eyes were hardened, her mind suddenly thinking with unfounded clarity.

There was no way she was just doing defence anymore.

When the black-braided girl had rolled around the shield, going around the back, Elsa shot an ice blast at spear first, casting it away. Then she willed to existence a boulder of ice, sending it the Career's way. The black-braided girl was gaping when she found herself being shoved backwards by the ice boulder. In retaliation, she swung her weight against it, but the slippery ice floor lent her feet insufficient friction to resist. Elsa added to the power of the blast, forcefully pushing the Career girl back until to she hit the sealed crystal balcony doors.

"What'cha gon'na do, Ice Freak?" The District 4 girl yelled, but the quivering in her voice revealed that it was all bravado. "Smash me with your ice-stuff?"

"No," Elsa answered levelly, though she winced at the girl's insult. Each one of them had thrown one in her face. _Freak, Witch, Monster…_

The ice boulder tore through the ice doors, flinging them violently aside as the girl was driven further and further back of the ice floors. Even she could hardly see her opponent anymore, Elsa was sure the black-braided girl was pressing hard the ice wall, while the ice floor crumbled away.

"I don't need to kill you, Four. When _gravity_ can do it for me."

The black-braided girl started to scream profanities, but Elsa gritted her teeth as she persisted in fueling the power. At the back of her head, she knew her sister, her hometown, were all watching this, and that made her madder. Of all the ways she could display her powers, she had to do the ugly part.

She was sure all the Capitol lunatics were watching her with much anticipation and admiration, cheering as she slowly but surely drove a girl – not an innocent one, but a _girl_ nonetheless – down to her icy grave, and herself driven to play the bad guy. The mutant freak. The ice monster.

The frosty spray burst against the ice boulder with new ferocity, and it eventually became too obvious that victim was already sobbing in fear. Elsa jerked head away as she was to cast out everything that she'd ever thought good of herself as she felt the balcony fence tore from its roots, toppling down the crevice, where her victim would surely join it.

"Elsa," a calm voice suddenly spoke out. The tone was soothing and kind. "Don't be the monster that they say you are."

The frozen rage burning in her soul dissipated. Blinking, she shook her head, as she started lowering her hands. Spinning around, her eyes met those of the brown-eyed boy, with a fishing rod and blunted strap-on-skates.

There were so many thing wrong with this moment: him was from another District, him telling her not to do what the Capitol, him speaking with such sincerity and kindness, herself actually listening…

_Whirrr!_ It was only the stillness of the air which allowed them to hear the axe flying at their face. A sharp shove later, Elsa found herself tackled to ground, feeling supremely annoyed to find the brown-haired boy on top of her, his face inches from her own.

"Oh, whoops," he said with a slightly embarrassed grin, as if they both hadn't just avoided a potentially life-ending situation. Elsa just glowered at him.

As they hustled to collect themselves, the blonde District 2 girl had already raced across the hall, starting dislodging her axe from the wall. Elsa noted that Hans, still on the ground, was struggling to lift his crossbow, aiming for the axe-wielder, clenching his teeth as he did.

His efforts went array at the last moment when the scarred boy from District 4 came running forth, kicking his arm. The bow jerked upwards instead, and the bolt went flying way off course. A'clink' sound was heard as it snapped the crystal hook that held the chandelier in its place.

Jack had scarcely yanked them both to their feet when they saw the magnificent mantelpiece falling above their heads. "Oh, c'mon."

Elsa immediately ducked him behind herself, raising her hand upwards.

It seemed that entire world was broke into silence in that moment, when all that was heard was the shattering of the ice against ice. Straight through the second floor did the heavy frame of the chandelier fall, down, down, down till it smashed into the first floor. As it did, the majestic pillars of ice cracked with finality, smattering against each other. The walls of spikes and icicles were leaning in, as the entirety of the castle was uprooted from its previously base - shaken by the fire, and perhaps its mistress' fear. Careers – or at least those that could – were escaping the crumbling building, barely rushing across the splitting ice bridge in time.

If you watched in the distance, you could see the glistening pink castle swallowed up into a smoky white fog, while blocks of ice that once made up its gleaming gleams were tumbling over one another, sliding off the mountain peak, into the crevice below. If there shrieks of anguish, or cries of fear, or even shots to mark a tribute's death, it was hidden beneath the roar of the splitting crystalline structures rolling off the cliff.

* * *

**Winter Quarter – Off Summit**

"Aren't you gon'na kill him?"

Dagur glanced at the unconscious redheaded tribute lying against the snow, then shrugged, "Nah. I want my victims to scream, so I'll just wait till he wakes up."

"Considering how wounded he is, I don't think he's waking up," Shen pointed out. It would seem that the white-haired boy was perfectly fine but for the tight breaths he sucked in every now and then. His resistance to pain was unnervingly inhumane - he stood himself perfectly upright as if there wasn't a bolt stuck in his ribs. He had explained that he would only remove it camp, and there had been no more questions since then.

The two girl Careers came trudging back up to their impromptu rendezvous point. Besides a scar near her neck and some scraps along her cheek, Gothel had sustained no injuries. However, she complained constantly that both had ruin her face for life. Astrid had only a bruise at side of her head and a sore back, but somehow she carried with her a sullen air.

"So, any sign of her?" Dagur asked immediately, his usually busy hands strangely empty. He had lost his favorite sword in the castle crash, and he was generally still irritable about it.

Gothel raised a brow at his promptness, but simply questioned in return, "Heather, or the Ice Witch?"

"Ice Witch, duh. I don't care about Heather."

"Heather's dead," Astrid announced flatly, slopping her exhausted self down onto the snow.

The three remaining Careers shifted their eyes towards her.

The blonde girl elaborated hoarsely, "When the castle started cracking up, I saw the platform of the balcony go down into the pit first. Heather never stood a chance." Her red fingers were wrapped firmly around the hilt of her axe, but her arms were trembling – whether from cold, or anger, or anything, the others couldn't tell.

Dagur hardly meditated on this for a second before he moved on, "Whatever. The Ice witch?"

"There's a lot of snow and ice debris just lying around," Gothel began, "the witch and the other boy could be buried-"

She was cut off when the blonde went for the scarred boy. Dropping her axe, she lifted him by the collar. Her blue eyes glowing with fury, she screamed at him, "Your District-mate just died, and all you say is _'Whatever'_?"

"It's not as if she and I were all buddies," Dagur retorted, yet he turned pale in the face of Astrid's angry one. "She's not even in _your_ district-"

The girl shook him a few times, screaming, "Is this just some kind of _joke_ to you?"

"Now, now, Astrid," Gothel put in soothingly, but she was ignored.

"People," the blonde was so short of breath that she had to force herself to take one before she continued her rant, "people like you are dying around you, and you don't care a _smidge_?"

"Erm, excuse me? This place's _all_ about dying! Where have you been?"

"You despicable- "she made a string of curses so colorful, that the Gamemakers eventually chose to censor it from the screens, "-does _life_ mean nothing to you at all?"

"The only life that matters to me is my own – _no duh_. Heather was dead from the start with _me_ in, anyway. Stop acting as if your hands are so clean, Little Miss I'm-So-Perfect!" He even said it in a high-pitched voice, riling up her anger futher.

Gothel tried to interrupt, "Now, now, this is completely un-"

"This isn't about faults - this is about honour, and respect!"

"Honour! Respect! Is _anyone_ listening to this" – he heaped a whole bunch of expletives over her head, earning darker and darker glares. "Why bother - why should I – this doesn't even matter enough to warrant respect! _We_ don't matter! Life is pointless and stupid!"

"Well you"- she launched a tirade of vulgarities his way - "should seriously consider " - and another.

"Do you even understand-"

"No, _you_ don't understand-"

"Crap, you're breaking, aren't you? You're getting soft! And all that 'I'm-so-tough' girl stuff-"

"I am _not_ getting soft-"

"Are so."

"Am not."

"Are so."

"Am not."

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"And now you're just behaving like children," Gothel interjected matter-of-factly, as they both stopped to breathe for a second.

"But aren't we _children_?" Astrid spun to her, her voice still raised. "Aren't we supposed to act like children? Be _immature_? And _angry_? And _stupid_? Not…not all _this_." She gestured vaguely around them. Through blurred tears, she glared at heraxe, its blade gleaming against the shining snow.

The lull that fell on them was terse and uncomfortable, as the blonde's words echoed against the endless whiteness that surrounded them.

Shen broke it first. "I'd appreciate if we headed to camp now. We only waste time here."

Silently, the rest conceded, as they reluctantly returned to their feet. The white-haired boy glanced at the comatose red-headed boy in the bloodied black jacket. "So what about him?"

"I'm not killing someone who doesn't react when I kill him," Dagur answered, his tone leaving no room for argument. He immediately spun around and headed downwards.

"I'm in no condition to do so," Shen put in mildly, gestured at his own wound, before he joined the other boy.

Gothel and Astrid were left staring at the redheaded boy from District 12. Sighing, Gothel cocked her to aside. "Well, I'd hate to slit such a handsome neck."

"Neck?" Astrid inquired with much skepticism.

"It fits very well with his nice jaw-line," Gothel had managed to explain, without really explaining at all. "Ah, well. He's yours then."

Spinning around, the District 1 girl gave her black curls a toss, preparing to trek down before she halted at her steps. "Astrid."

"Yes?" The girl answered, as she retrieved her fallen axe.

Gothel turned her towards her, an odd expression crossing her face. "Have you noted that both you and Heather are named after flowers?"

"No." Astrid narrowed her brows at the taller girl. "Why?"

The black-haired girl seemed to ponder this a while. "Oh, it's just that flowers are supposed to be so…_fragile_." She tossed her curls back, giving a flippant giggle. "But never mind that, dearie."

Astrid's brow only furrowed more deeply.

"Anyhow, if you're feeling poorly about Heather's death, don't be. It was inevitable from the very start."

That threw Astrid off. "It was?"

"Oh, yes." Gothel nodded, a pitiful smile playing on the corner of her lips. "The minute _you_ allowed this poor, but cute tribute," her eyes darted to the unconscious boy lying on the snow, "into our pack, we were bound to run into trouble, and of course, _betrayal_. And if the boy didn't have the crossbow…"Gothel trailed off deliberately, before ending in a patronising tone, "but don't worry yourself, dearie. After all, Heather's end had long been pre-determined by _your_ decisions."

With that said, the black-haired girl tucked her hands into her coat pockets, humming as she began her descent.

If Astrid had felt upset at first, she felt indefinitely tattered at the end of Gothel's little speech. Her fingers wrapped around her axe, she stood over Hans' dying body. The wound in his side was bad, but its redness had reduced to a dull brown by now, and perhaps the cold slowed the blood flow a little. Her blade hovered above his corpse-like self, finding its way over his neck. She could end him quick and easy.

But right now, she couldn't, and she didn't want to.

She lowered her blade, casting the pale boy one final glance before making her way through the ever-piling snow. Even a fresh new sheet of it decided to rain down now, carrying freezing winds with it.

If the bleeding didn't kill the boy first, then the cold would; and if the cold wouldn't, eventually infection would. She didn't care if she needed to face her fellow Career's faces later when they demanded why they didn't hear the cannon shot. She didn't feel like killing anyone today.

Right now, all she could do was listen to howling gales, allowing herself to pour her torment into it.

* * *

**S/N: **

**The Ice battle is based off the one in Frozen, except the castle collapses in my version, and in the movie, we don't know what happens to the castle. And maybe you'd understand why Hans has to carry a crossbow at this point. **

**Shen's parting speech is a direct quote from KFP2, and it's one of my favorite quotes, because it's seriously menacing. And he manages to kill someone off permanently after it.**

**This started off very hard to write, but end turned out rather smooth, especially Gothel and Astrid's exchange. Sorry that this chapter is rather short, but I thought that here would be a good place to end it. **

**BTW, I think you guys might notice that my spelling seems to be a mix of American and British English, because I'm used to both. I apologize if this annoys y'all, but it really comes naturally to mean.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Well, Happy New Year folks! Hope you're enjoying it more than me, because I'm not enjoying it much. This was a quick update, because I was bored, and because I refused to do homework on New Years' Eve. TV is really bad right now, so …here I am. **

**Thank you people have been following this story! It hit 51 followers yesterday! Huzzah!  
Sorry for spazzing on this kind of thing, but yeah this is the longest fic I've ever written, so this naturally the only one with 100****th**** plus review. **

**OH wait, forgot to celebrate. 100 plus review! Yay! Thanks guys! **

**100****th**** review place goes to – QueenElsaofArendelle1934 ! I don't have a prize, but here's a virtual CAKE! (yeah, it's dumb, but it might be FOOD FOR IMAGINATION. Okay. Couldn't resist.)**

**Mailbox: **

**A way to uncreative girl: Haha, I say this a lot, but thanks again! I noticed you've about to 146 fave stories, and to be consider 'probably the best' is truly an honor. **

**QueenElsaofArendelle1934: Thanks! I certainly will.**

**Awsomaniatica: Her logic of building a castle (maybe I'll write that in when I get round editing this) is to challenge the Careers, but she didn't expect all the Careers to turn up, or the explosions either. Punzie (and her abilities) is an enigma to everyone, even to herself, and this is going to have complications ( out of all the most un-THG-ish things I do, hers perhaps is the most. And Elsa has ice-powers…). Hiccup and Punzie make sense as a team, if they could get past the trust issues..., or even meet up. Hiro, getting rescued? The guy should suffer more honestly.**

**SmilingStarcat: In my head, I kind of picture that after her revelation moment in chapter 15 she'd undergo this 'let it go' phase – and tada! The castle appeared! Another reason in above reply. i.e. building castle is a basic survival instinct. Seriously. Um, team J.E. just got crushed by a chandelier, so…skating away on ice didn't happen. Ralph and Van are lovely folk, but why Gothel? She's just mean, and condescending, and absolutely awesomely creepy! Okay, yeah. Thanks for the wishes.**

**ElvisRules41: Actually, I'm not that sure what you did. I mean, I do sort get it, but why's Anna in the mob? Wait. What? Kidding, I understood perfectly. I love the exploding aerosol so much – I'm asking myself why did I use it so early.**

**Thanks for Reviewing, and Happy New Year!**

**Review. Critique. Ask Question.**


	20. Chapter 19: Allies, Not-Allies and Alone

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 19: Allies, not-Allies, and Alone

* * *

**Winter Quarter **

It was dark.

It was cold.

And he was scared.

And then, he remembered that he had a lighter.

Feeling about the hoodie, he managed to find it, and fiddled the switch. The device eventually burst into flame, and the blackness shrouded away, to reveal a cavern of ice around him, dozens of icy stalactites hanging above him.

Coughing, he brushed the snow off himself. He felt bruises all over his back and shoulders, but fortunately nothing seemed to be broken. His neck felt really sore for some reason, though.

Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the orange yellow flame, he slowly rose to his feet. He still felt a bit dizzy, but he couldn't really remember why. In a matter of fact, he couldn't really remember why he was here. The last thing he could recall was watching as the icy chandelier came crashing over their heads.

His eyes narrowed. _Their_?

Holy, _Elsa!_

He spun on his heel, hurried looking at the heaps of snow around him. There was nothing in sight at the moment, but with all the snow debris lying around, it was extremely possible that she was buried somewhere in there.

One hand gripping on the lighter, he used the other to dig. Pilfering through the snow, he found his fishing rod, only that it had been snapped in half. Since it had lost its use, he lit the fires over it, allowing it to catch fire. Dropping the glowing stick on the ground, he went back to digging. The next thing he unearthed were his useless skates, which had their ends blunted but were still in good condition. He dropped those by his feet, before he resumed his digging.

It felt like ages before he managed to hit anything solid that wasn't frozen H2O, and he was overjoyed when he found a hand – a cold hand, albeit, but a hand nonetheless. Working furiously and even using his feet when his arms got tired, eventually he eventually pulled the girl out of the snow. Her loose was splayed about the snow, and her eyes were closed.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered to himself, when he saw her limp form. She couldn't die, right? Her powers were all ice and snow and stuff, so it'd be ridiculous if she died from cold. She could probably die from suffocation though, so his fingers immediately went to her wrist. To his relief, he could feel the faint thumping, though it was rather muffled.

"Hey." He shook her gently, just in case she had fractured some essential rib or joint that he didn't know about. "Wake up."

She stirred uneasily, heaving a deep breath as she did. She tried to sit herself up, and Jack took her arms to guide her there. Glancing around, she wheezed, "Where am I? Wha-what happened?"

"Where? Some creepy ice cave, somewhere under the mountain, I think. What? I think you saved us both. Oh, and your ice castle has been smashed to smithereens." He jerked his head toward the rubbles. Gleaming pillars of ice and the shattered glass-like fragments at their feet proved his statement true.

Possibly she was still giddy from the whole ordeal, because she was still clutching onto his shoulder. Her grip was strong, and very cold, but considering everything was just plain freezing already, Jack didn't really feel a difference.

Seeing how she gazed sadly at the debris strewn all around, he added, "Sorry 'bout that. It was a really nice castle."

With his help, she gradually got to her feet. "It doesn't matter. It wasn't going to last anyway."

At that moment, the ex-fishing-rod-turned-kindling shriveled up, and they were swallowed by darkness again.

As Jack fumbled about his coat pocket for the lighter again, he suddenly found himself immersed in a pale blue light. Gazing around him, he watched in amazement as Elsa waved her hands carefully at the ice caves a few more times, making the glow in walls of ice around them stronger. He leaned over towards the ice pieces, full of incredulity and astonishment to see the blue behind the glassy surface dim, then light up, over and over, the way a flame would.

A smile stretched across his face as he peered all around him in wonder. "_This. Is. So. Cool_!"

"You-you like it?"

He turned to the girl. She still kept a sure distance between them, yet she didn't seem particularly afraid of him. If anything, she seemed afraid of making him afraid, which was weird.

His grin widened. "You kiddin'? _This_"- he waved at the cavern lights excitedly – "this is _awesome_."

"Oh. Well," she answered rather stiffly, scooping her blonde hair back nervously. She cleared her throat, before saying, "Thank you."

There was a brief silence as both of them stood around, just staring at the magnificent sight around them. Then, suddenly the ground shook, and snow dust fell over their heads. Cracks crept up the sides of walls, over and below. Both of them instinctively grabbed onto each other to steady themselves, their eyes frantically flitting around their crumbling surroundings. Jack was cursing, while Elsa only muttered prayers.

Fortunately, the tremors died. The blue glow of the cave, which had faded when the cave first shook, returned to its initial brightness. Both teens released the breaths that they hadn't realized they were holding. Cautiously glancing downwards, theirs eyes anxiously traced the numerous lines that now ribbed into the ice around them.

"Y-you think you can freeze it up again?" Jack whispered, afraid that any sound might result in who knows millions tones of snow.

The girl raised a tentative hand at the wall, but another tremor caused her to misfire, so the blast sent a row of spikes shooting out of the wall instead. Jack just managed to jump out of the way before a little icicle impaled his nose.

He added, "Um, I meant, without killing us all at once?"

She shot him a hard glare, folding her arms. "Well, my _sincerest apologies_. I haven't exactly used my powers since yesterday. I truly regret lacking the practice."

"You're kidding." She glowered at him again, as the icicles that she made became involuntarily became a bit longer. "Okay. You're not kidding."

After another frown, she went got to business. "We need to get out of here before crashes on our heads."

"Okay. Can you just melt the ice around us?"

She scowled at him again. Somehow she seemed rather irritated with him, but at least she hadn't suggested leaving him behind to die. "Haven't you heard what I said just now? Besides, I only freeze. I don't – unfreeze. I don't know how."

"Wait." There was a faint rumble beneath their feet. "How can you not know how to reverse the effects? That makes no sense."

"Easy for you to say! You're not the one who's been cursed with ice powers!"

The cave might have reacted to Elsa' outburst, because another tremor struck, nearly knocking them both off their feet. Steading themselves against each other once more, gasping in anxiety, Jack was the first to speak, "Okay, okay. We get out of this cave first, then we work out your problem."

"Right." Elsa conceded, though she still gave him another dark look at the word 'problem'.

Under her steely gaze, Jack had a difficult time trying to focus on thinking. Half of him couldn't help admiring how the divine radiance she possessed was under the reflection of the blue lights, whilst the other half was freaking that she might decide to heck the rules and skewer him by icicles anyway.

Behind them was a dead end, since that was where all the castle ruins were. But in front of them, from what he could make out from the blue light seemed to a tunnel of sorts. Where it led, well, they could only hope was a better place than here. However, he noted that even the ice of the cave floor was splintering up. Walking was going to be too slow, and the weight of their feet might very well collapse their only escape route further if the ground below happened to be hollow.

The only beneficial about staring at the breaking floor was that it led him to staring down at his feet, and at his feet, he saw exactly what they needed.

"You make stuff with your ice, right?" He asked her out of the blue.

She made her confusion clear. "Like what stuff?"

Leaning over, but warily so that he didn't accidentally crack the ground below them, he picked up the pair of strap-on skates. "Like these."

She raised a brow at the skates, then nodded, but her head still tilted in askance.

"Good, strap on," he instructed her, ignoring the questioning look bending down slowly as he fitted the skates over his feet. There hadn't been any more tremors since the last two, but he didn't want to risk setting off another.

She was still bemused, but nonetheless she took action. With a flick of her wrist, swirls of snow descended to her feet, wrapping around the boots, until they became a firm pair of steady skates.

"Okay, now that's _really_ cool," Jack confessed, his eyes widening with amazement.

"Yours don't look to good," she commented after comparing both their footwear. It was true, especially since his skating blades were blunted, and also because her skates looked _fantastic._

He shrugged. "It'll last. So," he grinned at her, "ready to have some fun?"

"_Fun_?" She scoffed, staring disbelievingly at his enthused countenance. "We're facing our impending deaths."

A 'thud' was heard above their heads, and more snow dust showered down. Much to Jack's alarm, he observed that fissures in the walls widening indefinitely.

"_Time to go!"_ He grabbed her hand and started roving across the uneven ice ground, or whatever was left of it.

"Wha- where are we going? And I don't even know how to skate! "

It couldn't be told if Elsa's yell or the scraping of metal against the ice had caused further splitting in the cavern ceiling, but honestly that question wasn't on their mind when a new shower of frost came upon them. Behind them, they could hear ice crashing down, as the weight of the castle ruins started closing down on the tunnel.

"Just kept your feet planted on the ice! I'll handle the rest!" He had to shout to her, because the boom of the tumbling ice blocks was clogging up their ears.

It had felt like ages since he had last skated – oh, wait, it had been ages since he skated. The last time was really last winter, and he had to miss an enjoyable years of whipping around the frozen lake for hours, with Emma hot on his heels after he had dumped snow down her coat. And why?

Hunger Games. Oh, right.

Ignoring the obviously painful past, he focused on the present. With the wind biting his face, ripping through his brown hair, Jack could feel his heart accelerating was to the record-highs. The atmosphere was definitely terrifying, since they were in a collapsing tunnel with falling frozen stalactites, after all - but at the same time, it was _exhilarating_. Zipping past walls of white like a bullet train, he couldn't help the grin that formed on his face, nor the gleaming of his eyes as their speed increased substantially upon sliding across polished ice.

On the other hand, Elsa wasn't enjoying herself, considering how often she would glance back and give him commentary on the distance between them and getting minced. He noticed that the blue glow of the cave still followed them, but it was flickering erratically, strangely in sync with her twitching.

"Oh, won't you relax?" He yelled to the girl behind him. Her grip around his arm was very tight and very cold. He could bet on his life that by the time they got out, he'd have massive frostbite.

Suddenly, an icicle appeared along the path, and he had to make a quick swerve to avoid it. As they got further and further down, the appearance of readily growing icicles became more and more frequent.

"Are you doing this?" He called out to her, just as they wove between the zillions of ice spikes that just appeared on the ground.

Her answered was slightly muffled, since they were travelling very fast, or maybe, it was because she sounded ashamed. "Sorry."

Before them, a large pillar of ice shot up through the roof this time, blocking their escape route, save to a narrow hole on its side.

The grin faded into a grimace as he dragged the blonde girl closer to himself. One arm grabbed her waist, whilst the other he held forward. _"Hang on!"_

She only nodded, hooking her own arm around his shoulder. If she wanted to protest about their close proximity of, she kept to herself.

Just as they approach the ice pillar, Jack clenched his teeth in anticipation. He bent both of them lower, allowing them to pick up even more speed. He prayed that the pillar didn't grow any spikes – that would just be nasty, and probably ruin what he was about to do.

When they were scarcely five feet from the pillar, he jerked them sharply to the right, such that they climbed the sides of the cave, with only their speed sticking them to walls. He was sure he heard Elsa scream as they went completely vertical, ducking their heads as they swept past the pillar. She was still screaming went they were horizontal again, but Jack threw his head back with energetic chortle.

"We almost died!" She snapped at him, though she gripped more tightly on the boy.

"I know!" He answered between wild cackles. "But we _didn't_!"

He was continued laughing and whooping the rest of the way, even as they whipped around, over and under the array of spikes protruding the tunnel walls, giving whoops and crows at every sharp turn. Feeling how tense his companion was, he yelled, "You need to stop taking everything seriously. Have some fun!"

She didn't give an outright refusal this time, and he felt her grip around him loosen. He noted that she was trying to copy his footwork, sliding one foot in front of another, or turning on the heel when necessary.

"You almost got it!" He gave her an encouraging hoot at her, as they looped around another set of ice spikes.

She became more confident after a while, gradually letting go of him as she stared intently downwards, until both of them were only holding hands, but this time skating abreast. A small smile appeared on her lips when they glided up another curve. Somehow, the broader her smile, the fewer the icicles, and their paths became smoother. Instead, Jack could only gaze in astonishment as the cavern walls lit up with a strong steady blue and the cracks in the walls began disappearing.

Most of all, he was amazed at how the transformed she suddenly seemed. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed red, and green eyes shining like stars. She didn't look like a queen, cold and reserved. She didn't look like a goddess, lofty and above. She looked like a wild, unkempt teenager, letting loose and having fun.

And she'd never looked better.

Five seconds later, reality came crashing down on them as the cavern started widening up. Far in the distance, Jack noted as they were running out of road with a large crevice appearing in before them. The quick glance at the side walls told him that they were too rough and steep for them to skate in a curve like before.

"Elsa!" She looked up, the radiance vanishing with her smile. "Can you patch that?"

She followed his line of sight to the looming hole before them, her hesitance returning. "I-I've never done it on the go before. Never this fast."

"Well, you're gon'na have to try," he told her, as they approached the uninviting gap.

He could see that she was muttering something under her breath – some kind of mantra. She let go of his arm at the point, and he noted that she was nervously rolling up her sleeves.

When they were almost on the edge of the pit, Jack had almost discarded hope and begun giving mental farewells to his sister and mother. However, Elsa raised her arms forward, her hands glowed bright blue as the icy blast transformed into a sheet of ice, splayed over the hole, allowing them glide right over.

A relieved chuckle left him, before he turned to her. "Not bad!"

She peered back, a smile creeping onto her face. She seemed pretty amazed at herself, he realized.

A violent tremor struck them suddenly, almost flinging them off their skates. Squinting around at the splintering ice around them, then back at the confident demeanor of the girl gliding by his side, he couldn't make sense of it. Then it dawned on him, and he cursed sourly.

"What's wrong?" Elsa demanded anxiously, they zoomed under a curtain of plunging icicles.

"The Gamemakers, they're doing this to us," he hissed to her. "They probably want us to end this quick. Either that, or die trying."

"Seems survival is in order," she replied, her smile curling into a hard determination. She extended her hand to Jack, and though perplexed, he took it without question. With her free hand, she set a layer of frost on the ground the below them. As thumps resounded against the rest of the cavern as the ice walls closed in on each other, she began blasting any ice structures that blocked their way. Swirling mists of white were rolling close behind them, but Elsa simply lifted an arm behind them, shooting a powerful that ice blast that propelled them to breakneck speeds. Jack could feel his heart thudding rapidly. Half of him was immensely afraid, but the other half only knew pure glee.

The blue lights in the ice died away as both of them recognized the white sunlight filtering through the cracks above. Looking forward, both of them couldn't fail to notice the upward curve that marked where they path ended.

"End of the road!" Jack hollered, hoping that she had something in mind. He sincerely prayed that it wasn't a cliff side.

"Just hold on!" She returned, no trace of fear. Both of them linked arms, their finger twined around each other, as they zipped up the ice slope, and the caves behind them crushed into powder and dust.

On the very second that their skates left the ice, Jack felt an unrequited wash of freedom as they flew into the air. They were already pretty high up, considering that they were in the mountain, and leaving the cavern actually gave him a panoramic view of the other quarters. It was almost scenic. Except they were sinking down the next second.

"_Oh, crap!"_ He shrieked as gravity yanked them back, but a cloud of white suddenly appear, and his metal skates struck with the freshly crafted ice. Physics demanded that going down turned into going up once more, as they skidded off the ice platform, flying in the air once more, before being unceremoniously plunged into the snowy ground below them.

There was a moment of absolute quiet, with only wind howling. That is, until Jack stuck his head out of the snow. Sitting up quickly, he scanned for his blonde companion worriedly. Seeing that she was quite alright – calmly digging herself out of the snowdrift, the overwhelming adrenaline made him loose a hoot. "We're alive! Huzzah!"

Awkwardly shoveling himself out of the snow, he got to his feet, kicking up the snow around them as he pranced about.

"We're alive! We're alive!" He sang shamelessly.

Elsa could only shake her head at the madly dancing boy.

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

He was pretty disgusted with himself. The sun was shining right down above him, so that meant he had slept the entire morning away.

Admittedly, he had slaved the entire night away in the snow. He could only guess it was around 2 a.m. when he had managed to dig up most of the deactivated mines. The blonde Career, Astrid, had watched him like a hawk, preventing him from setting any of them off early. About half an hour later, two Careers boys, Shen and Dagur, had arrived back to the Cornucopia; both rather torn up in appearance from a recent battle.

They had then bandaged themselves up, before they had made it for the spring quarter again. They had taken turns guarding and transporting goods on both ends, but he had to play donkey throughout – at least, until Astrid had decided that he was taking too long and made him sit and do planning instead. Eventually, everything had be brought to the Career's new headquarters – a pleasant meadow field, beside an unusually large cliff face that hung above, such that it sheltered the supply pile from rain completely. It was nice and warm, compared to the horrid Cornucopia grounds, so Hiro didn't complain, especially since the cold made his leg ache.

That had been until Astrid had shoved her axe in his face and had started him on the defense system. So all the way to dawn, she had sat herself by a tree trunk, 'supervising' as he had dug around supply pile. From a memory chip he had found under one of the tributes plates, he had created a mother controller and had linked all the mines to it. Astrid had forced him to teach her to use it, and he had reluctantly showed her how to pressing the red button made all the mines go active, and pressing the blue made them deactivate, so that the Careers could go in and get things from the heap when they wanted to. When they had seen the signal smoke coming from the Winter Quarter, she had taken the controller with her before heading out with the two injured boys. However, she had been far-sighted to guess that he could probably construct another if left to his own devices, so she had stuck him in the middle of the supply pile before activating all the mines over again.

He scowled as he thought of that part. He had been sure that he would have outwitted her at some point, but Astrid had been far too sharp. She had observed where he buried each of the mines, ordering him to do it again every time she felt the layout was too simple. So he even as he sat on top of the mountain of the assorted food stuffs and weaponry, knowing exactly which route he needed to take to get his butt out of this minefield, he couldn't escape.

It came down to two words; injured leg. A trip, a tumble, and he'd be blown sky high.

Astrid had foreseen this, and he hated that fact. He hated smart Careers. The Career girl that Tadashi had allied with had been pretty smart too – she had known how to twist his emotions and his compassion to her advantage. Astrid was way too smart, though not as much as her district mate.

Hiro began to worry just a little. During the period when Hiccup and himself were still all 'chummy', he had taught the boy perhaps a little too much about robotics. Hopefully, the boy would have discarded it by now, in assumption that such knowledge was absolutely useless in the Arena. But the Hiro couldn't really be sure of that, of course. If he had near eidetic memory himself and he had meshed that well with the District 2 boy, who's to say the other scrawny, bony boy didn't have the same talent?

As he carefully shifted himself from in his uncomfortable spot onto of a folded camping tent, his hands went into his hoodie pockets, where the sealed metal tube tucked in. He had managed to obtain it after much secret sneaking, but the other item that he had sought for was still not found, and more sneaking confirmed it wasn't here anymore.

"Stupid. Useless. Brain," he growled at himself, even picking up a tin canteen to hit his head with. It didn't help at all. He tried desperately to remember how the Bloodbath went, hazarding a couple guesses who took it, but most of what he could recall was just that the ice just messed up everything.

And that Honey died.

He could his lip trembling, and he bit it in angry retaliation. This was why he had been avoiding thinking about the Bloodbath till now. Lots of things that _weren't_ supposed to happen just _had_ to happen. It was supposed to be _twelve_, not _five_. It was supposed to a quick, albeit bloody, fight but it ended up as chaos and mayhem. And Honey? She was supposed to by his side, putting their brains together as they cracked yet another puzzle together, making their way through this maze of an Arena and complete their tasks.

Amidst his brooding, he found himself looking at a pair of large green eyes, and he shrunk back, letting out a high-pitched squeal.

"Shh!" The owner of the eyes hissed at him. From the visage of worry she wore, he could tell that this she hadn't expected him to be here anymore than he had expected to see a girl hanging off her own very, very long blonde hair her face inches from his own.

Glancing up, he noted that she had probably tied her hair around a tree trunk on tip of the cliff above them, before agilely scaling herself down towards the pyramid of goodies. If he wasn't on an extremely unstable seat, or he wasn't injured, he would dance with joy, because there it was! A huge, gigantic _loophole_ to his impenetrable defense system! He could kiss the long-haired blonde right there and then, but he supposed she wouldn't have appreciated it.

The girl was perceptibly the one from District 8 – Rapunzel, he oddly recalled her name –and she seemed relieved to find that the number on his sleeve read something other than 1, 2 or 4. Still, the arms that she used to steady herself on the loop of her hair her foot rested on were shaking, and he noticed that her stomach muscles had tensed up as she examined him. The bandage on around his leg allowed her to relax slightly, but he couldn't shy away from the hard look in her emerald eyes.

He decided to play nice, "Hey."

The girl, Rapunzel, considered, before returning his greeting, "Um, hi."

"So, are you looking for anything in particular?" He asked conversationally, as if he was a stall-owner helping an undecided customer.

"Um," Rapunzel seemed partially disturbed by how comfortably he acted around her, but she eventually took him up. "I'm need so bandages, and" –she cocked her head to one side as she thought – "disinfectant, definitely some disinfectant. For my forehead."

Hiro stared at the said place, before commenting quizzically, "There's nothing wrong with your forehead."

"What? The guy from District 4 hit me…" She trailed off as she lifted a hand to her forehead, feeling around the skin, surprised that there was nothing there but smooth, though sweaty, skin. She murmured, "I could have sworn that I had an abrasion."

"Anything else you'd like? I'd hurry if I were you," he told her, glancing away occasionally to opening at near the forest. Astrid had told him keep guard of the food pile, telling him to warn the occasional tribute that stumbled across the place of the imminent deaths that awaited cross the minefield. But Rapunzel here had managed to bypass all that, just by using her hair. Still, if he was caught now, Astrid would have his head. "The Careers could be back at any second."

"Okay." Rapunzel's voice increased in urgency. "I need, um, a water bottle – a full one; some food; a-a knife. And socks! I definitely need more socks. Gloves, if you can too."

Having survived four hours on this pile and searched it several times, Hiro found everything within a minute. Just as she leaned out to take them though, he drew back, just out of arm's reach.

To her surprised, yet wary expression, he said, "I wanna make a deal."

The girl took a shorter time to deliberate now. "What terms?"

"I'll give you the stuff you need, if you bring me with you."

Rapunzel seemed taken aback. "Bring you? With me?"

"Just up," he clarified, pointing to the cliff face above them. "That's all I ask."

She pursued her lips, and he could see the conflict within herself as she thought this through. Hiro took the instant to examine their surroundings again.

"All right," she replied finally, "but no sharp objects on you. No knives, no swords, nothing. Except the one that's for me."

Hiro was unwilling to go without a weapon; who knew when he made need to cut up an unfriendly face? Not that he really wanted to. Still, if he was ever going to leave the Careers, it had to be now.

When he nodded, she broke into the strands of the loop she was standing on, forming two new loops. As she adjusted herself on one, she handed the other to Hiro, who unsteadily hopped onto it with his good foot. It took some time for him to balance on it with one hand only, since he was still helping her carry her loot with the other hand. When he was ready, Rapunzel hoisted them up by yanking onto the free-flowing river of hair. She was either very strong, or she understood pulley concepts well, because every yank shot them several feet up, away from the shrinking piles of food. Hiro couldn't help but be astounded at how free it felt to be flying up the hair-made elevator, side by side with the blonde girl.

They eventually reached the top of the cliff, and Rapunzel removed her hair from the tree she had tied it to, before hauling the rest of her hair back up. He had never really realized how long it was, since she had always braid it up, but seriously, how could her neck bear that weight? And it was really light and smooth too. He couldn't wondering what type of conditioner she'd use.

He heard her clear her throat, and spun her direction.

"My things," she demanded, though a catch in her throat revealed her to be more nervous than threatening.

He was more than willing to oblige her, since he didn't need any of the stuff - not with the metal tube tucked safely in his hoodie pocket. She slipped the items into her sling bag, before gathering up her hair in her arms again. After she did, there was a tense silence as they both stared at each other, wondering what they should do.

Hiro knew he was in no condition for fights now, so he did what any sensible small kid would do. "Wanna be allies?"

The blonde girl's reaction was odd. It wasn't a mocking laugh, nor was it a blatant 'no'. It was just a quiet decline. "I don't think I want any allies - for now at least." Grabbing her elbow, she added, perhaps thinking that he needed to know why, "My ally just died yesterday."

He blinked in surprise, but he just said, "Oh." The face of his own blonde friend flashed past his eyes. "Sorry about that," he supplemented with more sympathy.

His fingers touched his armband as he briefly debated with himself. She didn't seem particularly hostile towards him. _Distrusting?_ Absolutely. _But aggressive?_ No. She didn't want to be here anymore than he did.

But honestly, who did? _'Only Five,'_ he reminded himself. And maybe less than that, since there was a band missing from the arena now. If he gave her this now, maybe someone else more deserving would come along later, and then he'll really get in trouble. He really hated this stuff.

But then, Honey liked Rapunzel. _Had_ liked Rapunzel.

Taking in his armband off, he twisted it, snapping off a new piece. "Wear this," he told her as he handed it to her, "Find others wearing this. They'll work with you, when you're ready."

She seemed rather puzzled, but she slid the thin band up her right arm all the same.

"Um, on the left." He demonstrated with his own band.

Still mystified, she changed the band over to her other arm.

Angry voices from below the cliff made them realize that the Careers have returned. Familiar, high-pitched swearing told Hiro distinctly that his escape had been discovered, and that the blonde Career would be hunting him down the minute she could.

"We'd best go now," he told the other girl.

She nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulders before grabbing her bundle of hair, speeding all the way back into the forest. Hiro watched as she went her way, before hobbling himself towards the woods. As he uneasily stumbled through the damp grass, he sincerely hoped that his sponsor was as rich as Gogo had claimed he was, because right now, he really needed something to fix his leg.

As if fate had read his mind, Hiro heard a pinging sound coming from a nearby shrub, and was near tears with joy with he found it was a little parachute. It definitely wasn't for Rapunzel, since she would have just raced off without acknowledging it. On the other, a limping young boy would be slow enough to notice it.

When he opened the metal container attached to parachute, his guesses were confirmed.

The note inside read simply; WOMAN UP, WIMP – G.

He rolled his eyes before he searched the rest of the can. All he found was a small tube of clear liquid, and he had a good guess on what it was.

Happily, he sat himself down at a tree, unscrewing the tube cap at the same time. Gingerly, he straightened his injured leg, before removing his carefully-wrapped bandages. Gagging slightly at the sight of the gnash that decorated his calf, he squeezed a little of the liquid onto his pinky tip, before dabbing it gently onto the wound. The medicine hopefully did the trick, because he began feeling pricks of heat around his skin. He began adding the cream more generously, though the pragmatic part of him didn't want to use up all of this cool medicine.

He lay back on the trunk, sticking his leg out to airing the wound. It was a bad idea to be resting out here in open daylight, but Hiro decided to do it anyway. The Careers were unlikely to scale the cliff to look for him, and so far there hadn't been any big, terrible monsters sighted in the spring quarter. Once the leg healed, he would go.

Without meaning to, Hiro fell back into deep slumber, with the spring birds chirping cheerily.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

Hiccup had been for the most of the day understandably anxious, so when he fell to the ground, kissing it and thanking the Gods (he didn't actually know what that meant, but he understood it was an expression of gratefulness), one had to sympathize with him. You see, after spending an hour of reading the book he had found in the red-but-no-longer-red bag, he had been running from an inexplicably scary tree that spat acid at him.

Yes, _a tree that spat acid_. It didn't make much sense to himself either.

He had spent a good part of his day dodging mysterious acid-attacks and fires around the forest. He wondered if the Gamemakers were sending him a message – maybe to tell him stop running towards the border of the Arena and go back to where all the other tributes were so that he could put up a nice, bloody fight with his peers, a.k.a. let himself get beaten into a bloody pulp.

Well, not happening.

So the weirder attacks he got, the further he ran into the Summer Quarter. He only ceased fleeing, because he had reached the end. Literally. He was currently sitting on the cliff edge that marked the end of the Summer Quarter.

Well, the edge itself wasn't the end of the Summer Quarter. Beyond it, he could see miles and miles of sea stretch before him, only interrupted by occasional blocks of sandstone sticking out. Far in the distance though, he could make out an island of sorts, looking like a single mountain sticking out of the blue waters.

A strange longing suddenly pierced him, and he felt this curious desire to go all the way there and discover what it was. But unless he wanted to swim till mile's end, or wait till the Gamemakers sent a killer whale to gobble him up (well, killer whales need toothpicks too, don't they?) , the furthest place he was going was to the cliff edge.

While he failed in a lot of battle-based things, his survival skills were generally fine. He had managed to set up a few snares that didn't call explode in his face when he released it, so he had caught and skinned a passing squirrel earlier on. He had found a narrow creek, which was close to drying up, and had attained some water in the wooden water bottle he had made for himself. Though for unexplainable reasons, all his clothes became soaked up in the process.

So now, after dropping his catapult and his bag aside, he gathered some kindling wood and began stoking himself a fire. Most of his garments were already dry by now, but he wanted to be completely clear of damp before darkness fell, because the nights in the summer quarter were pretty cold anyway.

The fire caught on quickly. He drove a wooden stake into what-used-to-be a squirrel, and then skewered it over the flame. He didn't even bother hiding the firelight. He was very certain that he was quite alone where he was. Who else would be as crazy to hike through the thick tangled of branches and rugged dirt and stone? Moving through rocky terrain was not that foreign to himself, since he had worked in the stone quarries in District 2 enough to know how where and where not to place his foot.

Feeling bored after tinkering with his catapult for a moment or two, he dug up the book again. It was an interesting read at first, but eventually he couldn't be bothered to finish the rest. The book – named aptly 'The Muttations Manual' – simply listed almost every muttation that ever existed in the Games, and perhaps the rest of the world. He had found some of the more standard ones, like tracker-jackers and wolf-muttations, then he found weird ones, like man-eating black horses and gigantic black bears. As the longer he browsed through the book, the less he read, dismissing this or that muttation as being extinct or no longer in use, according to what he had watch in Games re-runs. Very soon he found that he had nothing left to read, and the squirrel meat was still raw.

An idea struck him, and he took up a wooden stick, stabbing it into the flame. Removing it, he blew out the flame quickly. Spreading the book before him, he found an empty space at the bottom of the page. Brushing back his auburn bangs, pressed the charred end to the page, he began to sketch what started out as a leaf, and ended up being a boat. Huffing in dissatisfaction, he flipped through the book, finding another blank border along the description of some wolf-creature. Absently biting the end of the stick, he spat out the bits of bark that got into his mouth before he began drawing a face.

His hand must have been drawing on its own, because before he knew it, his cousin Snotlout's face's was in the space, looking exceptionally bad-tempered and stupid. Just for a measure of fun, Hiccup added a mustache on his face, then chicken-pox, then drew a bowel hat on his cousin's head. The result was quite hilarious, and he found himself chuckling quite liberally, especially since there was no way his cousin could get back at him for this one.

Tossing a few more pages, he found more spaces and began drawing people from all over home; Silent Sven, who somehow managed to actually stay silent for that long; Mulch and Bucket, the hilarious but fearsome pair of Peacekeepers who he'd bump into sometime; Mildew, the cantankerous ex-soldier who was always grumbling to no end.

He then started drawing in the rest of his 'playmates' – they never really played with him, even as children, and spent their older days coming up with ways to ridicule him. Ruffnut and Tuffnut, the twins, came out as crazy-looking, but that was okay, since they were crazy – even others kids in the Career Training Academy said so. He drew in Snotlout again, but made exaggerated his nose-size and ears, even drawing silly speech-bubbles saying 'With my face!' It wasn't as if his cousin could get back at him, anyway. He then added in Fishlegs, drawing his childhood friend with his nose buried in a book, his eyes glancing around nervously.

In amidst the doodling, he wasn't sure how far he long he had been at it before he finally realized that he drawn a full length portrait of Astrid, except that the picture was neither derisive or funny. He had drawn her as he had seen her once after a long run during Training, her blonde plait whipping back in the wind, her blue eyes glowing as she smirked jubilantly at the pathetic losers who were still panting to the finish line - himself part of that company.

Even in the crudely drafted version of herself on the page, she was beautiful. Damn.

Biting his lip, he quickly flipped the page, praying that the cameras hadn't been in him at that moment. They couldn't know what he thought, or felt, towards his District mate. He didn't want it to turn into some sick new gossip for Capitol citizens to chatter over, the way they probably did for that poor guy in District 12. They were already taking away his life and his future. There was no way they were taking _this_ from him, even if it was a sad little dream by a pathetic wimp of a teenager.

His hand took off on its own again, and when he was paying attention, he realized that another picture had appeared on the page, but this time of a different blonde. It was a scene that he had about four days ago, during the training sessions. The girl had been watching at the trainer with fascination as he demonstrated how to use the various condiments to make paints for camouflaging. She was holding up her glasses, her bony form arched forward, her blonde hair falling around as she took a closer look at the bowls. At that moment, she just happened to glance up, meeting his eyes.

It was a harmless memory, compared to the other one he couldn't scratch out his mind.

Hiccup chucked book aside, almost angrily. The squirrel was close to being burnt up by now, and he had to wave the skewer to put out the flames. Half-heartedly, he bit into the burnt flesh, watching the violet pour into the crimson sky, his free hand twirling absently with the band he wore around his arm.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this long chapter (probably won't happen again. I think.)**

**I've only ice-skated once in my life (in a tiny rink), so I'm sorry if the ice-skate scene was unrealistic to you. That was like the fun sequence, and it's a bit like the parallel with the Snow Day sequence in ROTG. (I was listening to the ROTG soundtrack 08 - Wind Take me Home while writing.) Probably won't happen again, since it's way too happy.**

**Some of the people named in Hiccup POV are characters from **_**Riders of Berk**_** series, so chill if you don't recognize them.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Because I've started school, I'm going to be updating about once in two weeks for now. I promised myself I'd work hard especially hard this year. I'm planning to finish this story (not including sequel) before June so that I can focus on the exams at year's end. Let's see how it goes, eh?**

**I don't if I've asked this question before, but can you guys tell (by my writing, or whatever) who's my favourite character out of the main five?**

**Mailbox:**

**QueenElsaOfArendelle1934: Thanks! I'm glad you've noticed the combining – and as the story goes on, more of it will be seen. Sorry that I can't update as often from now on, but school comes before fanfiction and blah. **

**countrygal15: I guess it's pretty obvious Team J&amp;E are still living, unless their ghosts are good ice skaters. As for Hans, I'm actually in a bit of pickle about him…**

**A way to uncreative girl: Thanks for the virtual stuffing! The great about this imaginary stuff is it's never as fattening as in real life. You always have time on your hands? Man, I envy that.**

**ElvisRules41: LOL, too aerosol and the entire arena can explode in bits. Nah, I think aerosol has played its role, but there would be other forms of fire power (hint. hint.)**

**Guest: I'll try to keep my updates regular as every fortnight – so yeah, not that often. Um, Hiccup was never a Career – he was trained to be, but he got kicked out of school halfway (See Prologue). He also turned down offers to join the Careers (See Chap 7:Making Friends Pt.2), and so he's working alone (See …the entire Arena so far?). As for Hiro, he appears here, but he's not going to show up often because his is a smaller storyline (though his role is essential). Hope that helped.**

**SmilingStarcat: True on all counts of Gothel (and boy, that makes her the toughest villain to write) but really, my favorite of the villains here is actually Shen. (Doesn't mean I won't kill him though...) If that wasn't a frozone escape, I hope the one above is more like it. And … now I'll have to mull over how I'm going to fix my portrayal of Astrid – but until I do, she's not supposed to be sadistic (my sad writing abilities. I'll have to work on it) as much as she just likes fighting (that's why she didn't want to kill Hans or Hiro – no fight). But that aside, why she reacted to Heather's death differently from W. Dingwall's is because 1) Heather was an ally – so in Astrid's brain, 'one of us, the superior Careers' and Dingwall's just 'random faceless guy' to her. 2) She's angry with the fact that Dagur was just nonchalant about it, and also because she also doesn't know how she'd react in a similar situation (hint! hint!). She hasn't changed her mind about killing other tributes – Hans' just lucky for that chapter. Hope that clears up my error. I'm glad this made your New Year a bit nicer and stuff.**

**StarRunner1: From a fellow procrastinator, I think you should do your homework, but yeah ( you can read the first 4 words again). Glad you're enjoying though.**

**Thanks for reading! **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	21. Chapter 20: Warming Up and Serious Burns

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 20: Warming Up and Serious Burns

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

"Are you sure you won't melt?"

She made an exasperated sigh. "I am _not _made of ice! I _produce_ ice!"

"'Kay, 'kay, keep your hair on."

He dropped the blazing stick onto the pile of kindling. The tinder caught the flame first, and he blew on it gently, guiding the fire to trickle down to the rest of the logs.

"There," he said, a cheery grin appearing his face as he examined his work. "It'll be all nice and warm in no time. I hope you don't mind that."

"I _won't_ melt," Elsa repeated crossly, staring intently at the flame to avoid meet his laughing eyes. She had already admitted to herself that fire-making was not her forte, but did he have to rub it in _all the time_?

"I'm gon'na check on the fishing," he told her, as he rose his feet. "You sure that the rod you made won't stick to the ice? It is made of ice, and the lake surface is made of ice-"

"Yes," she hissed, folding her arms as she hunched forwards, still glaring at the orange-yellow glow.

She heard him laugh again. It was like jingling of bells; infectious and merry, and even it stirred a chortle in her throat. Still, she waited till he had left the cave before she allowed herself to smile.

According to him, he had found camped in this cave yesterday, around the time she had started building ice castle. He was right in describing it as a natural freezer, but that wasn't a concern. For her, at least – the poor boy looked like he was freezing his fingers off.

She had started braiding up her hair again, and when she reached the hair ends, she made herself a crystal band to hold it together, since the other was lost. Her hand then went to the cut on her chin, and she patched up with some frost.

"I can watch you do it over and over, and still not get sick of it." She jerked her head towards the boy at the cave mouth. The girl raised a brow at him, but he made no move to explain further. He lifted up the fishing hooks towards the firelight. "So what would you like for dinner; cod," -he raised a hook -"cod," - he raised on another hook -"_or_" - he produced the last fish, waving it dramatically - "_cod_?"

She deadpanned at him, but it only started him off again, snickering as he sat down. He begun scaling the fishes with the ice knife that she had given him. "Why doesn't this thing give me frostbite?" He asked, squinting the crystal blade whilst he brushed off the scales.

"Well, do you want it to?" She retorted contemptuously, but her heart wasn't really into it. She would never admit it, but his quips amused her more than annoyed her.

They sat in silence by the flickering fire, only interrupted by the sounds of Jack cleaning the fish, before he set them over the flame to cook. After a moment, it was cooked, and Jack removed the wooden skewers from above the flame, handing one of the sticks to Elsa. She accepted it silently, taking small nibbles at each time.

Out of the blue, Jack suddenly burst into a fit of laughter again, earning a disapproving look from the platinum-blonde. She asked impatiently, "What is it?"

"Who builds an _ice palace_ in the middle of the Arena?" He exclaimed, before releasing another guffaw.

"I was trying to meet them on a level playing field," Elsa defended, her brows furrowing with annoyance. Did he have to poke fun at _everything_ she did? "I didn't want them jumping on me out of nowhere."

"Oh, you mean like how I jumped on you back there? Right," He teased, ripping a mouthful of his fish. Thanks to his carelessness, he ended up coughing on the bones, which Elsa felt a smug sense of justice.

"You never stood a chance," she told him with a satisfied smirk, while she permitted herself bite into the fish again. She had to confess that he was a pretty good cook - either that or she was _really_ hungry.

After fitful coughing, he swallowed painfully, before he asking casually, "So, your sister does this too?"

Her head shot up at the reference, a chill running down her spine. "What?"

"You have a sister right?" To that, she gave an uneasy nod. "Well, does she freeze stuff up with her hands too?"

"It isn't just with my hands," Elsa snapped to cover up the shudder that shook her. Quite forcefully, she continued, "Anna's quite ordinary, thank you very much." Only after she had said it did she realize how dismissive it actually sounded.

"Oh, er, okay." Jack seemed a bit embarrassed by his question, so he sought to explain himself. "You mentioned that you were born with the powers, so I thought it might be genetic, or something."

"I don't know how I got these powers, but Anna certainly doesn't have any," she said more firmly. She hoped that as simple as her declaration was, it might keep her sister from being tormented by the prying Capitol press, - or worst, _Peacekeepers_.

Another thought struck her mind - what if Anna was accused of helping her hide her powers? What kind of trouble would that get her in? So quickly, the blonde girl added, "In a matter of fact, Anna doesn't even know I have powers."

"Wow." The brown-haired boy seemed rather astounded at this revelation. She prayed that he would drop it now, but before she could strive to change the subject, the fatal yet innocent-seeming words tumbled out of his mouth. "Why not?"

He was asking a story - _the_ story of _the_ secret. The secret that she buried even deeper than the one about her powers. To her chagrin, she realized that not only was the entire Capitol probably listening in to their conversation, but that a certain fifteen year-old girl from District 12 was too.

She was tempted to just tell him to mind his own business - a perfectly reasonable response to a stranger. But somewhere faraway, Anna must also be yearning for some explanation. What if she thought she wasn't informed because her elder sister didn't trust her? Or hated her? Or resented her? That would be far worst than elaborating her life dramas to some boy she'd just met.

Besides, the gloves were off - she wasn't supposed to hide anymore. Letting it go perhaps meant also letting go of her locked-up feelings. And perhaps that came by confession.

He was still politely waiting for her, seeming rather ill-at-ease, probably realizing his question was again inappropriate.

"When we were very young children, my sister did know about it." She noticed that he had relaxed visibly at her apparent lack of anger towards him. "My parents had told me over and over to keep my powers out of sight - that's why the gloves. But Anna would always beg me to _'do the magic'_. That's what she liked to call it." A warm smile crossed her lips, before a shadow fell over her fair countenance, "One night, when we were playing with the snow, I hurt her with my powers. An ice blast, to the head."

"Oh," he said in a neutral tone as he turned the fish around, but she didn't miss the fleeting startled expression that crossed his face. "What happened?"

"She went into a coma for days. Pa-The doctor," she amended smoothly, "had to do surgery on her brain." The doctor in the time of her childhood had long passed away, so heaping blame on him would be much safer. "According to him, I froze her head. Even after she came to, she lost some of her memories, and," her hands instinctively returned together, and she clasped them together tightly, "she forgot about my powers. Everything about it. My parents thought it best that she didn't re-learn it, and from that day on, I hid my powers not just from the world, but also my best friend." A sadness filled her heart at that moment, as she sunk tiredly against the cave walls.

"That's tough," Jack told her finally. It seemed that he didn't know what to say, but he sincerely wanted to convey his empathy, and Elsa appreciated that. "So, were you planning on telling her ever?"

"I guess eventually we would have informed - maybe she was old enough to forgive me." Guilt was written all over her face, and her heart sunk further as she blurted the next sentence. "But then, there was the fire."

Sensing the tension, the boy's hand went to the remaining skewer, turning it as to give himself something to do as she composed herself. Observing how she huddled in against the wall, he sighed, saying kindly, "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

Part of her had been tempted to take him on his offer, but if Anna knew this, then she deserved the whole truth. "No. I can do this."

She clenched her fist tightly, then slowly relaxed it." One night when I was thirteen, our home caught fire. Anna and I had come back late from a party at school, and the house blazing when we arrived." She wrung her together, much like she always did, except this time it was obvious she was forming a ball of frost.

"Our parents were trapped inside and Anna wanted to go in, but I stopped her. People in the town were all trying to help put it out, but the Peacekeepers kept getting in the way." She bit her lip after she said that. It wasn't wise to criticize Peacekeepers, especially not on national television, so she lied, "They were trying limit the casualties. I..."

Her throat tightened, her chest was constricting as the roaring flames reappeared in her mind. "I was so torn that night. The fire-"pushing the words out was harder than anything she had ever done. "-I could have put it out with a thought in my mind. At my will, I could have the entire house coated with snow! But," she folded her arms, turning from the District 10 boy, so that he couldn't see her tears. "I was afraid of showing what I could do. My parents had always told me to hide it all costs, b-but I don't think they meant it that way. I don't know. I just..." She just buried her face in her arms. She didn't want to imagine what Anna thought of her at the moment. There would be shock, yes, but what then? Anger of her cowardice? Shame? Disgust? An unwanted trickle rolled down her cheek before falling into her lap.

The silence that followed was even longer than the last. Elsa felt that she had probably stayed wrapped up like that for half an eternity, before the clearing of his throat made raise her head.

"Um." Jack pointed at their surroundings. Blinking away her tears, she realized that she had accidentally added a layer of frost around the inner cave walls.

"I'm sorry," she told the boy, fiercely wiping the tears, ashamed to show such weakest to her possible competitor. She searched him for any contempt, or worse, _pity_, but she only found gentleness and understanding. The frost halted its crawl abruptly.

"All that ice-power stuff - it's heavy, isn't it?" He asked simply.

Thankful for the little normalcy in his tone, she shrugged. "I guess so. In here though, I guess I'm getting a hang of it."

"Oh, that's great. Really. "As if detecting that it was a good time to change the topic, he picked last skewer of the rack."You want another?"

"I-If you don't mind," she replied, slightly ashamed, "I haven't eaten since, well, _the start_." _Since we entered this living hell called the Arena._

He nodded her to go ahead, waiting till she was absorbed in smacking her lips before letting himself grin with amusement. As he tossed some more kindling into the firepit, he told her,"Emma would have loved to meet you, Id think. She has a thing for snow-powered people."

"Who?" Elsa glanced up from the meal, as she delicately removed the bones and chucked it in an empty corner of the cave. It wasn't something she liked doing, but it's not as if they had waste-bins here.

He snorted at her bemused expression, his face twisting in disappointed resignation. "You didn't watch my interview, did you?"

"I was busy preparing for mine."

"Oh, well then." The answer appeased him slightly. "She's my younger sister - like 'nine years younger' _younger_ sister. She's very into fairytales, so she'd tack you with the Snow Queen immediately. It's one of her favorite stories."

"The Snow Queen's a fairy story?" She was genuinely surprised.

He looked at her incredulously. "You've _never_ heard it?"

"I thought it was some turn of a phrase, actually," she said, as she bit off the charred flesh.

"Sad childhood you have- _whoops_." He realized the error of his jibe too late, but fortunately Elsa was distracted by the playing of the familiar anthem outside the cave.

Both of their eyes met as they instantly recognized it; death recap.

"C'mon," Jack said, skipping from his cozy spot by the fire towards the cave mouth, but his pace slackened when he realized it she wasn't following beckoned her over, but she shook her head.

"I can't watch it," she told him, though she offered no explanation. She couldn't forget the screams of the District 4 girl as she tip-toed on the ice's edge, and a wave of nausea swept over her. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "Just-just tell me _he_'s on the list, okay?"

"Okay." She was surprised that he didn't ask for clarification, but the bitter tint in his tone strangely informed her that he knew well who she was asking for.

When the anthem stopped playing, the boy returned to the cave, looking strangely both grim and horrified at the same time. Elsa caught his expression and sat upright, demanding, "What is it? What's wrong?"

The boy didn't answer, only sitting himself opposite her by the fire, reaching into his coat pocket. For a moment Elsa was almost afraid he would draw some weapon that he had been hiding away and she held a breath.

To her relief, it was just a few slips of paper that he retrieved. He glanced through the slips, before releasing an irate grumble as he tossed them in the flames.

Elsa's bewilderment turned into anxiety. Inhaling sharply, she barely dared to inquire, "Who died?"

He huffed again, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. But then, without taking his eyes off the flames, he rasped in return, "The four girl's dead."

Elsa forced herself to take in a slow breath, before she pressed him further, "And?" She couldn't tell if her voice was full of eagerness or dread.

"Your boyfriend isn't dead, if that's what you're worried about." She was taken aback at how sour he sounded. Bitterness, she felt, was very unbecoming on his usually happy self.

"He's not my boy-" she cut herself off when she saw that the darkness in his eyes was beyond mere irritation. She tried to sound concerned, "What happened, Jack?"

He turned away, shifting himself further from the fire, such that all she could make from his face where the dancing hollows of the shadows . Nonetheless, she relayed her insistence by watching his silhouette intently.

Finally, he answered in a cracked voice, "Tooth's dead."

The strangeness of the words made her puzzled for a moment, but the lack of jest in his posture made her understand that Tooth was probably a person. The face of a spritely girl that had accompanied the handsome boy from District 10 during Training Sessions suddenly came to mind. They were more than merely civil to each other, as she and Hans were. They were close, almost inseparable. She even wondered if they could possibly be – well, _more than friends._

"It's entirely my fault." She could almost see the hate in his eyes piercing through the darkness. Hate towards _himself_.

She was no comforter, since she spent most of her life soothing her own feelings, but Elsa was strongly inclined to say something. That's something Anna would have done. "It-it can't be your fault. You weren't there."

"Exactly. I _wasn't_ there," he retorted in an eerily cold tone. "That's why it's all my fault." He arched his neck towards the ceiling, suddenly saying out-loud, "Yeah, I'm proud of it! Rub it in my face."

The faint glow that caught on Jack's face revealed with a twisted scowl that contorted his features, but it eventually melted to an exhausted droop.

"You should get some rest," he told her forlornly, as he ambled rigidly to the cave mouth, where the winter winds were blowing in. "There might be Careers around. I'll take first watch."

"Alright." She felt it was wrong to accept his offer, but she was exhausted, and he obviously didn't want to talk about it. She withdrew further into the cave, away from the flames, forming a bed of snow lie on. Leaning back against her artificial snowdrift, she cast a final glance at the boy. His back was turned to her, his neck arched upwards, absorbed in watching the snowflakes rain from the sky.

It was both refreshing and stifling, to have the door slammed in her face for a change.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

Hiccup jerked out of his restless sleep, because a thought had suddenly struck him.

_Did the book have anything on acid-spitting trees?_

The campfire was still lit when he was unceremoniously roused, which gave him sufficient light to work. He flung the book open, rapidly skimming through for anything to do with acid. There were dozens of acid-related muttations, but none of them were plants. As he passed a page on an acid-spitting reptile, he was about to gloss over it completely when his eyes caught on a few particular words; _'-camouflaging skills allow blending into rocks, tree, foliage and even buildings-" _

It would make a lot more sense if _something_ on the tree was spitting acid, rather than the tree itself.

He read the name, and it was vaguely familiar – _The Changewing_. Scrutinizing the creature's picture more carefully, he couldn't hold back the skepticism that washed over him.

Reading further into the particulars of this creature, his disbelief only increased. As part of his wretched life of an ex_-_Career student, he had watched virtually every Hunger Games re-run from the 1st to 73rd at least a dozen times each, and he knew the last year that the Gamemakers ever permitted the use of such dangerous muttations was the 50th Games – as a quarter quell special only. Even if they decided to ignore propriety and splurge on a non-quarter quell year, there was no way they would ever let a _dragon_ into the Games.

Everyone knew about dragons. They were reptile-hybrids bred to be protectors of Panem, under the charge of the Peacekeeping force – in other words, they were trained creatures of terror and mass destruction to keep the common populace in line. According to what he had heard from Gobber, they came in many forms, appearances and abilities. Besides the usually flying and fire-breathing component, different species of dragons apparently had different methods of stalking and decapitating their prey. The variety had been built-to-order for the Capitol, so that the common people wouldn't be able to predict or learn too much about the flying reptiles.

These muttations were intelligent, powerful, and very, very vicious. Which was why controlling the dragons had eventually been found to be fundamentally impossible.

Apparently, it had taken the Capital about thirty years come to that conclusion. With an exception of the few that the Capitol still kept for 'scientific research', the costly project was shut down and the mutts were destroyed.

_That_ was what they wrote in textbooks. Growing up in District 2, he knew the truth. One fact that he knew was that closing the project was useless, because most of the dragon mutts had already escaped into the wilds that lay between fences of the Districts. To keep them contained, a special division of Peacekeepers had been organized, trained to eliminate the reptilian beasts, or at least preventing them from entering Districts and destroying precious produce that belonged to the Capitol. From the conversations that he had overheard by his father and the council, he knew that the Peacekeepers have only barely managed to keep on a lid on the dragons so far. Even now, scientists in the Capitol and even some in District 3 have been researching on a new way to control the dragons once again, less they be overrun by these magnificent beasts in near-future.

Hiccup shut the book, scrunching up his face as he deliberated over this. There was no way the Gamemakers would risk bringing in a dragon into the arena, not if they couldn't control it. After all, they were supposed to be as paranoid as Hel about these kind of things. If they couldn't control something, then planting it in the arena was as good as signing their own death warrants.

A hair-rising shriek suddenly erupted against the dark blue sky, causing him to drop the book. For a moment, he was stark still, his ears pricked up. Inhaling sharply through the nose, he dropped to his knees, starting to shove in his belongings inside his bag, save the book and the catapult. Swinging the haversack over his shoulders, he started scraping up some of the soil on the ground, when he heard an ear-splitting squall somewhere above, followed by several whistling noises.

More frantically than ever, he tossed the dirt onto the fire. The annoyed flame hissed at him as it got uncharacteristically snuffed.

He was clumsily clambering to his feet when he felt a sharp gust of wind slap his face - if wind could possibly feel this hot. Searching in the white wash moonlight, he found his catapult and his book. The book he tucked under his arm, while his trembling hands tried to load up a set of bolas into the catapult, while he strapped another spare set around his waist. He was reluctant to use the bolas that he found at the Horn just yet, but he hadn't time to make new ones at present.

Against the moonlight, he could make out small black shapes hovering over the cliff, and many more flying across the sea to add to the number. Within seconds, the black shapes suddenly rapidly increased in size. That was when another draft swept his cheek, and suddenly the forest behind him flared up into blazes of red.

Hiccup's eyes were like saucers, and his brain couldn't find right muscles to shut his maw as he watched the flickering flames, whilst a shadow flew away from it. Another puff fizzed through his hair, but this one was a much warmer and more direct. He recognized this sensation – it was how he felt every time he stood at the furnace rooms where they baked the shale and slate to make cinder blocks. Except he wasn't in District 2, so anything warm was obviously far more precarious.

Hardly daring to move, Hiccup hesitantly twisted his head towards the puffs of air, only daring a peek behind him, before instantly jerking back, holding his breath.

Yep, _definitely_ a dragon. Had the razor-sharp teeth. And talons. And nostrils exhaling _really, really_ hot breath. The 'raze-you-to-ashes' kind of hot.

_Da da da._ He was dead.

Taking his heels, he fled, his heart jolting against its chest atthe sudden spike in anxiety. Daring a glance behind him, he noted that the creature had given chase. It was bi-pidal, with long blue scaly wings pressed against its large crest, only extending every so often for balance. Its was adorn with an impressive coat of spikes, from it head all the way to its –

The creatures' tail suddenly whipped forward, shooting a cluster of barbs his way. Ducking under a rotting log just in time, he pressed his back against the log, praying that the dragon just thought he had mysteriously disappeared. Around him, he could see various scaly creatures swooping down to the woods. Occasionally, one of them would pick up a fleeing woodland creature, before leaping back into the sky, screeching as it did. Many other dragons did the same thing, but sometimes they would end up fighting over the game, snarling and shrieking threats through their fantastically huge jaws. He would have been fascinated by the hunt, if he wasn't already prey himself.

The spiky tail seemed rather familiar though. He hadn't seen this breed of dragon in the previous games, so he had no idea how he could have recognized it. _Unless…_

His catapult then changed places with the book, as he began anxiously opened the book, cringing every time he heard a growl or rumble, hoping that none of the other creatures had seen him yet. Flipping pages rapidly, his heart sank when he heard loud steps of his predator as it approached, squalling in dismay.

Finally, he found the page that he was looking for. A significantly larger portion of the forest had caught fire by now, and the pages were sufficiently illuminated for reading.

"_Deadly Nadders can raise hundreds of sharp spines and fling them suddenly- _not helping," he murmured irritably as the squawking noise behind got increasing ferocious. "_Vain creatures – appeal to vanity._ So do I sing it praises? _Really?" _

Running his fingers along the words, he finally found what he was looking for. "_-blindspot between their eyes_. Okay, that's a start."

It was a good thing he discovered that in time, because the creature – the Deadly Nadder - had just hopped in front of him, snarling and snapping as it brandish its armour of projectiles.

Scrambling to his feet, he quickly stood directly in front of the Nadder's snout, as the book had instructed. He could feel the confusion emanating from the dragon as its prey seemingly vanished. It twitched its head side to side, and Hiccup quickly followed along, hoping against hope that he'd managed to stay out of sight.

However, a yelp from up above startled him – a pair of dueling reptiles, and he forgot to move in his surprise. So when the Nadder turned its head a full ninety degrees, he found himself staring into the black slit of its constricted pupil.

Accurately accessing that he had overstayed his welcome, he grabbed his stuff, running and screaming. The latter might have actually been a huge mistake, because he found that it seemed to helping the blue dragon follow behind him. The rocky terrain which had been his advantage before now was a hindrance, especially since the dragon chasing him was extremely light on its feet, hoping easily from the rock ledge to rock ledge while he had to stumble over the jagged ground.

A vague tingling sensation ran down to his spinal cord when he felt the tip of the Nadder's claws scrape his back, before a bellow rose from the air. Hot air bristled through his hair and he glanced up, gawking in awe and fear as red wings swept above him, removing the Nadder from his path.

Wisdom told him to run, but curiosity planted his feet to the rock path. Craning his neck over a boulder that he hoped could protect him, he watched in morbid fascination as the two dragons circled each other. The Nadder squawked at the sweeping red dragon, flailing its wings and its barbed tail as a warning. The red dragon snarled at his opponent, before abruptly setting its entire self on fire.

It was a poor time for scientific endeavors, but Hiccup begun flipping through the book, and he found a matching picture. "_Monstrous Nightmare_. _Engulfs itself in flames by coating its hide with combustible spit, and then igniting it_." A shudder ran down his body, but it was an even mix of anxiety and allure.

The Nadder struck first, launching a set of projectiles at its fiery competitor. The Monstrous used the claws on its wings-ends grab onto to a tree trunk, grappling on the vines and branches to swing itself out of the spikes' path of destruction. For something so huge, Hiccup had to be impressive at how quickly it could climb.

Flexibility and speed however were still the Nadder's stronger points, and it hopped about, screaming furiously before lashing a tirade of sparky fire shots at the Monstrous. The large, bat-like dragon merely retaliated with its breath of flame, and the duo was locked against combat, with their flames merging together to a single volley of fire.

Something suddenly clicked in Hiccup's head. The dragons weren't merely fighting for fun – no, the Monstrous had attacked the Nadder on purpose. The way they circled each other, taunted each other, roared at each other, wasn't because they were fighting, but because they were fighting over _something_.

Fighting over _him_.

And Hiccup realized that he needed to make himself scarce. Immediately.

Snapping out of his trance, he checked his belonging before dashing into the woods. A good deal of it was already on fire and crawling with reptiles, so he had no choice but to run further away from the border, where he knew the forest would clear into an empty grass expanse. He made an annoyed pout. Regardless of what he did, the Gamemakers could always make him do what they wanted.

Straddling through the mosses, he suddenly slipped on a smooth rock face, and found himself tumbling down a slope, getting himself tangled in wide variety of weeds and vines that fortunately didn't have much thorns. On finally reaching a halt at the slope foot, he sat himself up quickly, brushing off the vines quickly, glancing up the hill. No dragons seemed to have followed.

Except for a large, green-two headed dragon that swooped down said slope.

Scurrying to his feet, but still crouching down, Hiccup hopped over behind a tree trunk, hoping that this dragon had just happened to be the type with bad night vision. Of course, the dragon could just light the woods aflame, and then being seen would become less scary that being burnt alive.

Groaning, he opened book once more, having to squint against the pages and pray that his pupils adjusted the dark faster. This dragon was much heavier and clumsier than the Nadder, so Hiccup had a better mental gauge of how much time he had before he ended getting scorched or eaten.

The little moonlight that filtered through the thick greens above lent his some vision, and he was able to find the two-headed mutt. "_Hideous Zippleback. Twin heads. Razor sharp teeth coated with venom_ – Memo to self: Don't get bitten. _Doesn't breathe fire_." He lifted his brow in astonishment, but the next words shot down his hopes. "_Instead, one head breathes gas, while the other lights it._" He ground his teeth together, letting the words sink in, before he read on. "_Dousing the sparking head sufficiently can prevent ignition._"

He was about to groan, when he realized to the cracking of branches was getting especially loud. Throwing aside any hesitation he had, he removed the water bottle that he strapped on the outside of his bag. The book went under his arm again, and the catapult went back on his shoulder, as a precaution. Using his teeth, he gingerly screwed the water bottle with his teeth, spitting the cap on the ground. Then he waited.

He didn't really have time to get antsy, because a green head appeared around the tree trunk pretty soon. He drew back from it, observing the canines lined around the mutt's jaw – if dragons had lips. He didn't dare breathe as he waited for its first move. The huge, glassy eyes were fixed on him, and the creature parted its lips. Noxious fumes came pouring out. He made the mistake of breathing some of it in, and it started him off in a coughing fit. Still, he bravely shifted himself away from the trunk, away from the snapping head, fidgeting with his water bottle slightly he peered around the gas.

Out of the blue – or rather, out of the green, - another head emerged. In its maw, Hiccup noted the faintest 'click' between the creature's teeth, where he saw a spark. Gulping, he flayed the bottle at the creature, and all his precious water thrown away at that moment.

All of it was _thrown away_. For nothing. The water just splatted on the ground.

There were three very simple reasons why he failed such a simple task that would have saved his life; One, the Zippleback had very long necks, and the sparking head had happened to be too high for his arms to reach. Two, his hands were trembling far too much aim properly. Three, he was Hiccup –things messing up was pretty normal.

He could swear that the Zippleback heads were laughing at him; from the way their heads bobbed up and down as they made eyeballed with each other, their jaws hanging open and their tongues lolling. The, the two long necks swerved the heads towards the prey. The sparking head was clicking its teeth more ferociously now.

_Okay, Plan B._

Hiccup dropped the bottle in favor of steadying the catapult, barely gripping on the book below his arm as he aimed the wooden weapon and pressed the trigger. At the same time, the spark between the Zippleback's head met the green gas.

Hiccup had often dreamed of flying, but flying through the woods after an earth-shattering explosion was not the way he had envisioned it. His feet had lost contact with the ground completely, and his body was arched forward, zooming back through a black, brown and red.

He went under thanks to a concussion, but woke the surge of agony ripped through his back woke him up a few secondly later. Hissing in pain, he forced himself to get sit upright. The bag had managed to cushion some of the impact, but his back was screaming in agony. The catapult had landed right on his body, and one of the screw heads on front handle had decided to give him nick along his palm – a 'nick' being a nicer word for 'long incision'.

Blinking, he was slightly relieved to find himself in a clear open glade, away from the smouldering forest and its ignition-happy invaders of carnivorous tendencies.

Squinting through the black spots in his vision, he gathered up his things before searching for the book. He eventually found it in amazingly in tip-top condition, sitting neatly on a stone face as if someone had placed it there.

A shrill shriek rang out from the sky, and he recognized it as the one that he had first heard that night. Frowning, he raised his head to sky, trying to make out where it came from.

He could hear a faint whistling from above – not the kind that he had from the other dragons, but rather the kind that one would hear when you stood next to a bullet train at full-speed. It was gradual, building up until the very last moment, before it-

He grabbed the book and ducked just in time to witness the violet-blue blast that struck the stone. The explosion was strong enough to fling him back onto the grass again. Considering how close his proximity was, it wasn't that surprising when he landed with his legs over his face, his hands tangled up with the catapult and the book.

He heard the shriek again, and he forced the disorientation out of the way, even though his head was still spinning. Going on his knees, he placed the catapult on the ground as he loaded a fresh set of bolas into it. At the same time, he had flung the book on the ground, turning the pages with his foot as while his hands worked.

His current predator must blended into the night, considering he hadn't been able to spot it yet. It had also had purple blasts that exploded with rings of blue and red – plasma, Hiccup suspected. Browsing through the various mutts though, he was unable to find the info on this particular predator.

When he hit the last page, he couldn't help groaning in frustration. His contraption was loaded and ready, hoisted on his shoulder, but he still lacked the know-how for taking down this dragon.

In the moonlight, he suddenly noted that the last page, which he had assumed was blank, actually had something written on it. Examining it more closely, he read its title, "_Night Fury-_"

The name alone gave him jitters.

"-_Never steals food. Never shows itself. Never miss-_"

A bolt of purple burst against the same rock surface as earlier. It was almost as if the creature was warning him. Or perhaps, mocking him - about how close he was too imminent death.

"-_Speed: Unknown. Size: Unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance? Hide and pray it does not find you."_

Turning his head to sky, he remarked wryly, "Rather dramatic, don't you think?"

As if in response, a violet blast exploded on his right. Fortunately, it wasn't as strong as the first, and he lifted up the book to shield himself in time. So, the explosion only hurled him a few feet from his previous spot, without concussion and his catapult in tact. The book was once again mysteriously uncharred throughout the events.

Heaving himself up, he glanced at the empty glade where the night-blending flying reptile haunted his every step, or back into the forest cover, where every steps was crowded with interesting but extremely deadly predators.

He rolled back his shoulders. Considering his chances of survival of had already dwindled to single digits, he might as well take on dragons in their single digits; preferably the digit being '_one'_.

Dropping back and book, he knelt to the ground, both his hands wrapped around the catapult handles firmly; the left index finger curled around the trigger. He scanned the black sky, praying that someone show him mercy and give him something to shoot at – preferably whatever it was that was hunting him in the open field.

Fate – or maybe sympathetic Gamemakers - must have been on his side, because for a split-second, he caught a glimpse of black across the white of the stars. It was fleeting, but it was enough. He pointed the nozzle of the catapult in that direction, squeezing the trigger, before finding himself thrust back to the ground; not by an explosion this time, but the throwback. His heart in his throat as he listened to the zipping of the bolas in the wind, as the nets and balls flew. There was a soft 'click', then a terrifying howl, and in the white light, he made out the rough black outline of something falling from the sky.

His mouth was hanging open. It _worked_. His catapult actually _worked_.

His night of anxiety suddenly escalated into one of glee. One of his inventions, built and designed _completely_ by himself, had actually _worked_! He had guessed that the Gamemakers had doubted him, even though they had given him a nine. He knew that his District 2 had never believed in him, not even Gobber, and especially not his father. But here he was, on a national television, showing the world that _he_, Hiccup the Screw-up, had managed to _succeed_ in building a weapon completely out of wood in seven minutes, and it _worked_.

"Did _anyone_ see that?" He demanded the sky, still completely amazed by the events.

He spun around to give a whoop of joy, waving his arms madly in the air-

Wait, why were his hands free? Where was his catapult?

He scoured the rocky grasslands, scooping up bag and book as he did, pouring through the grass, before he found the splintered wreck that was once his creation. The force of the back-lash must have been greater than he had expected.

His shoulders slumped, but he simply rolled his eyes and sighed. _Well, what's new?_

A deep throaty breath from left startled him, and he found himself was in a staring a snorting dragon. It was red, skinny and its body was covered in leaf-like protrusions. Sharps teeth stuck out from its lower jaw, and a greenish-liquid dripping down its chin, to the grass, burning up a patch of it with a hiss.

He narrowed his brows at the creature, greeting it dryly, "Oh. _You_."

Just the Changewing parted its maw, Hiccup screamed as he sped across the grassy expanse.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Tada! The events of the Summer Quarter have been something I planned right from the start, and it's finally out here. **

**Honestly though, this chapter frustrated me. I realized that I really suck at writing action. Which begs the question – why do I end up writing these kind of stories?**

**If you can't out what (or who), Hiccup just shot, well…**

**All the characters would have to undergo some major story arches, so there would be some parts of the story where I'm wholly focused on a bunch of characters. So don't get worried if anyone doesn't appear for some time. (Like, has anyone noticed I haven't done a Merida POV for 3 chapters?) **

**Up Next: No quotes (because I've stopped writing in advance), but we'll be seeing some of Hiccup and some of Merida.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello, folks! Having been here for a while.**

**School feels surreal. My arms hurt from PE. But I 'valiantly' type on. Still struggling on my philosophy project. Nuff rants.**

**On the bright side, I had just used all my work money to buy a whole bunch of Art Books, for HTTYD 1&amp;2, ROTG, Tangled, Frozen and Big Hero 6! I'm pretty crazy about the artwork, yeah. My favourite book is still the Big Hero 6 one though, because the Japanese-American with Disney somehow appeals to me. I like the Tangled one just because it has Glen Keane all over it.**

**Mailbox:**

**QueenElsaofArendelle1934: Here's my slow update, hope you liked it. Hiro and Rap (calling her Rap comes more easily to mean than Punz, I dunno why) certainly are sorta allies, and Jack too. As for Hiccup's band, it's gonna be way more complicated…**

** : Thank you! I read the quote on your profile, and I agree with it, which is why this story exists. I hope that this version would continue to be a satisfactory tale, and that the deviations won't be too weird. **

**A way to uncreative girl: Haha, well, I'd give much for free time now…**

**Awsomaniatica: Just review when you like, no sweat. I'm glad you like the ice castle battle (I haven't written the rest, but I've a feeling it's gonna be my favourite fight in this story, but I'm getting ahead of myself…) Team-up will be coming up soon, eventually…like after a whole lot and lot of stuff. Oh, Hiccup's not going to have any action. I mean, he just got attacked by a whole bunch of dragons, so… yeah.**

**StarRunner1: (reads first sentence and throws head back and cackles evilly) Oh, I'm actually just going to save the remaining Careers, and kill of the big Five. Kidding! Can't tell you more about Jack, which tells you something (but your guess is not completely correct). I hope the 'action' here was alright, and if it isn't, the next few chapters should.**

**ElvisRules41: Happy Super Belated Birthday by now! I present, chapter full of random fire creatures! Tada!**

**Geekinquietx: (chap2) Yes, Elsa is older than Jack. In their movies, Elsa's supposed to be 21 when she's crowned queen, and Jack's 17 when he died (but his maturity didn't increase). Because I'm a stickler for canon (even beyond just ships, yes), my compromise is that she becomes 18 while he stays 17. I apologise if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but it's just a year, and their relationship is not exactly hardcore romantic. **

**WarriorQueen 14: Glad you like it, and I'm honoured that you think this fic stands pretty good amongst the THG crossovers. Yep, love canon ships. Well, killing off characters is hardly the worst I can do to characters, but I'm going to confess – lots of the deaths (of good people, at least) are driving points in the story, which isn't really realistic in real life, but it's fiction, so I refuse make their deaths pointless (hmmph...do I make any sense?).**

**Guest: Um, thanks!**

**The Next Update would probably be in 2 weeks time. My update times for this story is likely to be every second weekend, likely Friday. How on earth am I going to finish this by June? I dunno.**

**See ya. ****Review! Ask Questions! Critique!**


	22. Chapter 21: The Hunter and The Hunted

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 21: The Hunter and the Hunted

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**Autumn Quarter**

"C'mon, Red, aren't you even gonna fight?"

The air tasted damp and salty against her teeth, her throat sore from sucking such harsh breaths. Her soles felt like they were on fire, and her legs felt as if they were on the verge of snapping. Her jaw tightened in concentration, her muscle tensed in anticipation. Adrenaline flooded her veins, and sweat trickled down her forehead, but she wasn't afraid. Worried, possibly, but afraid? _Never_.

They were uphill from her position, so that gave them a huge advantage in catching up with her. They were also way too near; spending time to aim and fire would at most let her take down only one of her pursuers, before the other two fell on her. Her only option then was run.

She hadn't meant to get in this mess. Her stealth, speed and her size should have protected her from these sort of problems, but after a day of solitude, she slipped into negligence. She had been sleeping peacefully on the bough, strapped to it, but the night before she should have noted that the fabric had started to fray, and by morning, it had worn through completely. So when her sleeping form had rolled to aside, her entire body had come crashing down from the tree.

The good news? The foliage below was thick enough to cushion her from the unexpected tumble, though it gave bands of scratches over her forearms. The bad news? Her body bashing against the brambles had been very noisy, and unfortunately, there had been other tributes nearby. Mean tributes armed with heavy, spiky weapons.

Whiffs of fog gathered about her as she clambered down the hill, and thickened as she grew closer to its base. Slightly dazed, she didn't notice that her boot had caught in a thicket, till she was half way down to the ground.

"Dodgasted!" She swore under her breath. She had managed to stop her fall by throwing her arms in front of her. Instantly, she felt a searing pain fly up her arm when as her left palm slapped the dirt and leaves.

She valiantly fought back a cry as she forced herself upright. Cautiously feeling along her wrist, she grimaced when she felt the familiar the ripping sensation in her muscle. After all, one couldn't climb trees, jump fences and drawing bows without tearing a ligament or two.

She staggered forward, swinging her bow up her shoulder, then using her right hand to support her left elbow. She resumed skittering over the red leaves, hopefully getting away from the tributes.

Calls between the chasing party fortunately had worked in her favor in the fog, since she could simply dart in the opposite direction of the voices. She hadn't been able to take a good look at the people chasing her, but she knew that they weren't Careers, so that was also a relief, at least.

She found that the browning path gave way to one of gravel, strewn with moss and weeds, and the blocks of stone started sprouting everywhere. As she went through a monolithic structure that looked somewhat like a gateway, she couldn't repress the strong sense of foreboding as she headed up the rocky hill, cringing as she accidentally jolted the broken arm to a side.

"Where're you running, Red?" She heard a voice with a lisped call from behind, followed by an creepy bout of giggles.

She narrowed her eyes, forcibly moving her thoughts of the pain to those of escape, hoping that the adrenaline would be sufficient to numb out the pain. Any hopes of counter attack had been lost when she had carelessly injured her arm. The pain wasn't especially bad, but she couldn't hope actually pin anyone down when her bones felt like they could shatter any second. Her anxiety were cast aside momentarily as she reached nearer the summit of the hill, and the incredulity that bubbled up her almost swept her breath entirely away.

Before her stood a castle - nay, ruins of a castle. Remnants of fallen towers and crumbling walls were scattered all about dirt, leading off to a narrow cliff where stony debris ended. The decay and overgrowth would have suggested that it was long-abandoned, if she hadn't checked herself in time. Of course, all this was completely artificial, with the sole purpose to be a fighting ground. Any silly fairytale nonsense she would have liked to imagine of this place was seriously, well, misplaced.

Cries from behind rudely reminded her that she should find a place to her breaths, she scurried deeper into the ruins. A hasty step almost led her toppling into a pit. Glancing over its edge, she noted that the Gamemakers had been detailed enough in designing it such that it appeared to have been built as a lower basement of the castle courtyard - a dining hall, it seemed - but now was largely exposed to the elements above after most of its ceiling had collapsied over it.

It wasn't a suitable getaway from her hunters, so Merida dismissed any thoughts of searching for a hiding spot there. Running along the tumbled blocks of what seemed to be defense parapets, she was surprised to find a doorway at the foot of what seemed to be a tower.

"There she is!" A female tribute exclaimed exultantly, scarcely thirty feet away. Merida dashed into the tower without hesitation.

From the light leaked through the gaps between stones, she was bemused to find a staircase spiraling upwards, into the unwelcoming darkness above - a one-exit establishment, it seemed. Of course, the lack of door at the entrance also meant that this tower would end up being a death trap, if she didn't cover the hole herself.

A crumbling decorative arch over the gap of the doorway was deemed suited for her needs, so with her good hand, she jabbed the limb end of the bow against the breaks in stone, batting and smashing against them. When the rocks shifted slightly, she changed over to kicking them, until the blocks gave way and toppled over the front, preventing her unhappy pursuers from following her into the tower. She heard some scuffles and swears, but it was clear that they could not enter, and she let out a sigh of relief despite her thumping heart and her very painful arm.

The entire tower interior was shrouded in shadows, but the streaks of light gave her enough vision to stumble up the spiral of stairs, tripping occasionally, but catching herself in time. The darkness pressing in around her made her feel as if she were drowning; gasping and groping towards the surface, seeking relief for her shaken spirit and the agony.

She almost cried in relief when a golden gleam poured in from above. Skipping up the steps, almost forgetting her arm, she burst into the sunlight, glad to be away from the uncertainty that ruled the black interior. Her skin basked in the morning sun, distracting her from the new surge of pain running up her wrist. Cool autumn winds rippled through her hair, carrying with it fresh red, yellow leaves.

But bliss couldn't last forever, and eventually she crashed in reality as she unwittingly twisted her arm, as splays of agony shot up again. She dropped the bow and quiver against the wall. Tearing off her jacket, she turned it into a cast for the sprained wrist, using her teeth to tie the sleeves into a knot over her shoulder.

She decided to examine her surroundings in greater detail. The tower she stood on wasn't built with greying stones; weatherbeaten, and riddled with holes. Remnants of rotting wood around the balcony barriers suggested that it once had a roof - or it was designed to look that way. Prying at the splintering pieces, she couldn't find anything that could be of help to her.

Fiddling with the wood lining the parapet led her to gaze down towards the ruins instead. It was at least four stories high, so jumping would be just suicide. The tower walls were uneven, with crudely shaped blocks jutting out its side, and patches of rotting spruce stuck around. Her agility would have allowed her to climb down, if she didn't have an injured wrist to tend to.

Speaking of climbing -

"C'mon, Taffyta, get her!" She heard a familiarly high-pitched screech, its ferocity only tainted by the slightest lisp. Squinting below, she noted that a small girl with a bob of blonde - the District 6 girl, Merida had recognized, was determinedly scaling up the blocks of the tower. She didn't get past seven feet before she slipped on the moss, and went sliding back down to the tower base.

The pale-skinned boy in the group, Taffyta's mace-wielding District mate, was berating her as she rubbed her bruises, emitting strange giggles in between breaths. The girl made some whining remark, kicking the dirt in frustration, but she didn't meet the boy's eye. The last of the trio was the only red-head in the team, the male twin of the District 7 tributes. The brawniest of the rag-tag gang, he strapped his blade to his side before trying scaling up the wall.

Merida had to force herself to take deep breaths, to stay calm enough to think. He was the most physically capable of the lot, and she couldn't risk him actually being able to reach the top. Raking up scraps of wood around her, she held the handful over parapet and released it. Luckily for her, some pieces fell onto the boy's face, and he spluttered, releasing a hand to brush it away from his eyes, causing him to lose his grip all together. He fell backwards, almost crashing into his companions below, but landing safely, albeit painfully, on the dirt and pebbles. The pale faced boy began scolding him too, earning some dark glares from the much taller boy. "You let your get snared by a bunch of splinters! _Heeheehee_! Stabbington, what on Earth is wrong with you?"

"Why don't you climb yourself, little man?" The brute of the District 7 boy sneered, but he kept a distance from the shorter boy as he said that. Merida couldn't' help but notice that the District 6 boy seemed to be leader of the odd little alliance. She stared at him, wondering what could it be about him to could make the muscular boy step so wary around him. The kid didn't look very old, thanks to his small stature, and his grayish skin made him look sickly. He was as thin as wire, his bulb-like head being the biggest thing on him. The mace he wield drooped to the ground, as if it was a little heavy for a boy of his strength. She would thought harmless, if she hadn't already witnessed him commit willing murder during the Bloodbath.

"_Heeheehee_. Well, I'm not disposed - I mean, pre-disposed - well, perhaps I should say _equipped_," the boy mused aloud in his inappropriately chirpy voice, "towards management of actual acrophobic situations." The pattering train of thought and the bombastic words were successful in confusing the burly Stabbington.

Using her good hand, she jostled one of stone slabs free. it was light enough to fit her palm, and she lifted it up. Aiming carefully, she drew herself back before flinging it. The dried cement that clattered against the stone ground below warned the trio, and they quickly scattered when the slab smacked against the ground, smashed into pieces.

"Hey below!" She yelled. Their heads immediately jerked upwards to her. She gave them a fearsome glare."The next dunderhead who tries climbing gets a rock in the face!"

The three were silent for a moment, before Taffyta and Stabbington tore their gazes from her and transferring their attentions to the District 6 boy. The boy hadn't noticed this at all, his queer yellow eyes still fixed on her. He greeted her with whimsical enthusiasm, "Well, well, hello there."

She sent a cool, unwavering gaze towards them.

He chuckled nervously, before asking again, "Well, no need to be formal, eh? Come, come, just tell us, how's it up there, Five?"

She raised her brow at the faked cordiality. Well, two could play a game. "Nice and windy, rather relaxing," she replied pleasantly, though she kept the iron in her voice. "The view's perfect, y'know. I can see exactly where all of you are." She made a show of sliding another brick from its spot, leaning herself back as she got ready to launch it.

"Now, now, let's not be hasty!" The District 6 waved his arms at her, stepping a few steps away while an uneasy chortle escaped his lips. Clearing his throat, he started in a slow, soothing tone, "Why don't we talk this over like sane, reasonable people, hmm? Come on down, and we can discuss our ... _differences_."

"And give y'all free rein to throttle me?"Merida deadpanned, "I'm not an idiot." She didn't need to mention that she didn't have a way off the tower, even if there was the slightest, teeniest, tiniest possibility that she was interested in negotiating with the creep. "Now go away, before I make you even uglier."

The boy's servile expression abruptly scrunched up into contorted rage "Rude, snarky little-"

"Watch who you call 'little', little man," she retorted with a smirk. The other two tributes laughed at the fuming boy, even the girl, though wasn't much taller than himself. Obviously, his height was a sore point.

The boy scowled at his disrespectful allies - or maybe, _surbordinates_, - before his maddened visage disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. He stood upright, cocking his head to a side as he squinted at the redhead atop the building. Politely, he remarked,"That's an odd way to wear a jacket." He gave a little snicker.

Merida immediately drew herself away from the parapet, out of their view, a flash of chagrin shooting through her senses. They couldn't know about her handicap - she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that the little chase had taken out more of her that it seemed initially. They might even renew their efforts in climbing, if they knew she was even a little vulnerable now.

"Yoohoo, Red. You still there?" The District 6 was calling out. She didn't return to the ledge, though she couldn't cover her ears, since she couldn't move one arm. "Why not we make a deal, hmm? _You and us_. Work together." He gave a little chuckle. "Wha'dya say, eh?"

"Turbo, what are you doing?" Taffyta hissed loudly at her District mate, her indignation shared by the growling Stabbington, but the District 6 boy shushed them, with again another inapt chuckle.

"We could take them down, y'know. Take down the careers. There're only four of them left now, so we'd match up." Merida rolled her eyes, scoffing, but she had to admit that the idea intrigued her. "Taff's got speed. Stab's got muscle. You've got, well, - you've gotten that score of eleven from _somewhere_, I suppose. And of course, I've got my _genius_. You have to admit; we'd stand a better chance together."

"_Jings_. The offer is rather attractive." Merida pretended to consider out loud, before snapping sharply, "If I wasn't already so _repulsed_ by the one asking!" She would never admit it, but the wicked joy that had oozed out of Turbo's face while he had squeezed the life out of the District 9 boy on the Cornucopia stuck in her brain, and it sent shivers all over her.

She returned to parapet, narrowing her eyes at the waiting tributes to display her contempt fully, and hide her trepidation. "I'd work _alone._"

"Well, obviously you do." Turbo nodded with exaggerated patience, though his wildly gesticulating arms suggested more persistence. "But have you maybe - well, perhaps, - considered that you wouldn't _have_ to be working alone, if, well, there _wasn't_ a certain blonde career." He made a snort of harsh laughter that . "Oh, silly me, there's actually only _one_ blonde career."

She couldn't help glancing up in alarm. Turbo sniggered knowingly, confident that she had caught onto his insinuations. She could feel her fists clenching up as her heart rate sudden accelerated. How he knew exactly _that_ would get her attention, she didn't know, but there was no way she was working with this weasel. Narrowing her brows, she reiterated, "Since you guys aren't going to shove off, please excuse me if I don't exactly enjoy your company."

She drew away from the parapet, not just because she didn't want to banter to the tributes anymore, but because the ache in her arm was getting especially bad. She moved to another end of the tower she knew was out of their tributes line of sight, before she propped her left arm up on the stone wall, straightening it out, before slowly massaging it, hoping to drive out the pain somehow. She had gotten injured many times during her little 'hunting escapades' back in District 5, but she hadn't really taken note of how to care for them exactly - that was usually her mother's job. _"Merida, stop scratching the bandages." "Merida, the doctor said rest the foot, not hobble about and break the other one!" "For Lord's sake, Merida, that's for external use only! What were you thinking when you drank it_?"

Merida couldn't help the small smile on her lips. She had to give it to her mother for knowing this kind of thing - meaning things she herself had always considered useless. Sure, her mother knew a lot of rubbish about fashion, small talk and gossip, but she knew her stuff; she ran the house, the way she ran the town - that is, as smooth as silk-on-silk.

The tributes' loud 'discussion' constantly interrupted her personal meditations, and she couldn't help picking up the bits of dialogue.

"- won't work with us, she has to go. C'mon, she's got a flippin' eleven!"

"I'd say we ram down the tower, or smoke it! Then she'll have to no choice but to come down."

"No, no, no. That won't work, silly. I'd say we give her sometime to mull over it." The giggle that followed after told her it was Turbo, if the nauseatingly voice didn't before. "There's a storm brewing. The rain would kill any fires." His observation was quite accurate. Merida had been so caught up in the events of pursuit that she hadn't noticed the grey cloud rolling in.

"She needs to eat, so she'll have to come down sometime, whether she wants or not!" The District 6 boy declared, as if it was some great epiphany. "Then we'll ask her again." A chilling little chuckle emerge from him as he said darkly, "And if she refuses..."

At that point, the team of three decided to make camp in the crumbling pit within the castle courtyard. it was the same one that she had almost fallen into earlier, but apparently it wasn't as deep as she had expected, since they could climb in easily. There was enough stone overhang to give them shelter, yet its position was such that they still had perfect view of her spot on the tower, though she shared a good view of theirs on the ground.

As she had overheard earlier, Turbo had been quite certain that she couldn't escape the tower with out them noticing - which was unfortunately spot-on, and when she did, they would be more than ready to take her on - which was also true. But if nothing else, she was spared from their irritating voices for a while. Taffyta's complaining was really getting on her nerves.

She spent her solitary time pacing up and down the stone platform, only stopping occasionally to stretch out her wrist and rubbing the tense muscles. With wrist, a lot of options for escape went out of the window. If she had rope, she could perhaps abseil down the tower. Doing that with one hand was risky, but she was strong enough. But then, no rope.

Exploring the tower a little, she was starting to regret locking herself up here. The damp darkness of the tower interior was habitable, but inhospitable, and while the lookout above was a wonderful place to be, the drizzle pattering down forbade her from staying there - not unless she wanted a cold on top of the sprain.

She glanced around the tower balcony one last time. This particular tower was the tallest structure in the castle ruins, but it wasn't the only one of its kind. Some distance away, she noted there stood another cylindrical tower, with its top exposed like her own. Careful examination of it revealed that it also had a doorway at its base, suggesting that it probably had a spiral stairway that led all the way to its lookout too.

Making a rough estimate of the distance between her lookout and the one on the shorter tower, she decided it was definitely shorter compared to the height from the tower top to the ground. Had she any rope, she could probably cross over there too; maybe by swinging over or something.

But of course, then problem was she _didn't_ have rope.

Rain started pouring down harder. Cupping her good hand, she waited for the rain to fill it before took a few mouthfuls of water. Grabbing her bow and quiver, she then retreated downstairs.

Falling rain started growing into rivelets that ran all the way down the stone staircase, so the minute she squatted herself down on the steps, her trousers were soaked through. Annoyed, but not put off, she used to the tip of her arrows to cut off the ends of her pants, gather the damp fabric in her hand. Twisting her left arm about a little, she was relieved to note that her fingers were working fine. Resting her left elbow on a knee, she elevated her right hand so her hands were at comfortable enough a distance for he to knot the rags together. Ignoring the pain in her arm, ignoring the cold wet against her skin, she twisted and wound the fabrics till her fingers became numb.

Thunders rumbled over the woeful castle, as the mournful winds howled over its rubble.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

This was the Summer Quarter.

It was scorching, blazing hot in the day, and windy and humid at night. The terrain in a word? Rough. The ground was more stone than dirt, but weeds and moss clung around it defiantly anyway. The trees that grew on its rocky soil were all gnarled and twisted, as if shoving each other away to get into the sunlight, and the weeds that twined around them were thorny and tight, as if they were trying to strangle their supports.

It was a miserable hangout joint of a smallish, exhausted young boy, who had rested himself against a smooth rock. He awakened uneasily, hardly believing that he was still alive as he blinked away the haze in his vision. And irritated to note that was almost afternoon.

You see, he had just recently discovered about twelve hours ago that, while most Arenas usually had basic mutts like wolf-mutts, monkey-mutts, and jabberjays, this Arena, or more specifically, this quarter had ..._dragons_.

And that made his existence even more miserable than it ever was before. Believe me, that's pretty difficult.

Most people would leave. Not him. He was an idiot. An idiot with sanity - or rather - insanity issues. Between dragons and humans, well, he'd rather take on the dragons, because human's were creative and crafty, and dragons were - well, he didn't actually know. But anyway, he'd rather not kill people, but he didn't really want the audience to know-

Fine. He was just crazy.

Daylight brought him temporary reprieve from his 'adventures' last night, and while the Mutt Manual had been extremely handy, it would have been a lot easier for him to handle it in he had a weapon - in hand.

Okay, hands down, our hero's starting to get a litte delirious. It wouldn't be that surprising, given his present state.

He was drained out and dry, like his water bottle. He was burnt, but nothing beyond first degrees - which were, nonetheless, excruciatingly uncomfortable. His clothes were all charred, one way or another, and his leggings were ripped near his shoes. His bag was torn up, having been spat on by a certain acid-spitting dragon, and ripped apart by several various friendly mutts who wanted to hone their chewing skills.

Miraculously, the only thing that emerged unscathed was the book. If he didn't know better, he'd think that the dragons were programmed deliberately not to damage the crummy old stack of pages.

He grunted as he shifted himself to the side so that he could reach towards the traitorously lucky book. His body ridden with sores, bruises and cuts everywhere, and his muscles were aching, as if there was an uncomfortable heat attacking him from neck to foot.

He set the book on his lap, wincing slightly as the leather-bound covers burn his scorched thigh. He shoved the book aside for a moment to tie a knot over the wound, with a rag he had ripped again from his coat, before he picked the book up again.

Skimming over the stats and the names, he found himself stuck at the same page.

"Night Fury -The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself-"

He shut the book, reclining against the rock face and closing his eyes. In his mind, he could still remember the vaguely the shape that dragon against the starlight, though it appeared to be nothing more than a speck. Perhaps he didn't remember it well enough to know what it looked like, but he couldn't be mistaken in concluding that was the only dragon he had managed to attack. The rest were all lucky escapes.

As reluctant as he was, he shoved himself off his rear, grunting as he gradually straightened his fiery limbs, wincing as he fought off the excruciating pain. The ache lessened after hobbling around in circles a few times and he was ready to go after fifteen minutes.

With a bag on back and book in hand, he walked. And walked. And climbed a little. And walked, till a point he begun asking himself why he was walking around in the first place. He began listing off somethings he needed to do.

One was to refill his bottle, definitely. The dryness of his throat would kill him before any burn infection would. Next, he really needed was shelter. Not just from rain and shine, but specifically from the fearsome beasts that roamed the dark - he did not want a repeat of last night. If he suspected that he was alone in this quarter before, he was now certain that no one else could have survived this place without the manual. Thirdly, he needed to set up some sort of defense for himself. His catapult was gone, and he couldn't build it again, since he lost many bolts and screws during the raid. He still had lots of nets though, which were going end up pretty useless unless he found a lake to fish in.

So he went over hill and under tree, searching for a water source. The leaves were damp from a little morning dew, so he ripped off some and stuck it in his mouth, sucking and hoping that he was accurate in identifying it as a non-poisonous species.

The damp of the forest however worked sorely in his disadvantage, in the sense that he couldn't find real mud - more specifically, mud that wasn't created by dew, but rather the trickling of river water. And that meant he couldn't find water.

"Urgh!" He threw his hands up in frustration, his throat flaring up in response to his unneeded outburst. He spat out the leaves to clear the weird retching sensation that went up his digestive tract. He wiped his mouth, disgusted with himself and his lack of reservation. His behavior must be doing wonders to the reputation of District 2.

Trudging grudgingly along, he smacked away an blocking foliage overhang, only for the branch to take swift revenge by swinging back against his eye.

"Ow!" He growled as he rubbed his skin, glaring at the branch as if it was all his fault. And then he stopped.

The trunk of the tree that the branch was attached happened to be split right in it's middle. The felled half of the trunk led down a rocky slope, where a road of debris and destruction marked the fall of something heavy and powerful.

Carefully, he slid himself down the slope, his curiosity winning over his agony, before toppling over head first just he reached the foot of the slop. Annoyed, he scuffled to his feet, when something shiny on the ground caught his eye. Picking it up, he examined.

It was a small metal ball, with a metal pin sticking out of it. The dried crimson liquid that coated it suggested that it had been ripped out of someone's,or something's flesh.

He decided to discard the object - the blood part was rather unsettling - but he continued following the trail. It stopped roughly at a huge rock that faced a bare spot of green grass, and some rocks, and a dragon, and a shrub or two...

_Wait_.

He ducked behind a stone immediately, his respiration system shutting down momentarily before hyping back up in full throttle. He shot up, then shot back down just to confirm what he saw.

Oh Thor. There was _dragon_ in the clearing.

He dropped the book, and opened his bag, finding something - anything - could be a weapon. The electric drill was something he was reluctant to use, but out of everything it was probably the best out of the set - which was still pretty pathetic, since what he was facing was, well, a _dragon_.

His bag and books stashed safely in the shrubbery, he took a deep breath, releasing the air from his cheeks dramatically, before took another peek at the large black creature on the ground.

His alertness became surprise. Apparently, the dragon was bound up, from its wings to its legs, with the very same bolas that he had loaded onto the catapult and shot into the sky.

He was in a state of utter disbelief, as he slowly advanced towards his catch. He couldn't take his eyes off his handiwork, even pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "I did this?"

An amazed chuckle bubbled up his throat as he surveyed the scene before him. He hoped the cameras were showing this moment right now, because it was possible that this was the most glorious moment in his life! Okay, he didn't kill another tribute (he preferred to delay such a deed as long as possible), but for once, his invention actually worked! For once, something that _he_ designed; something _he_ had built with his own hands, and _he_ used, had actually worked. Yes, he, Hiccup the Useless, had succeed in bringing down this mighty beast!

'This mighty beast' decided that ego-deflation was in order, because our startled hero was stumbling backwards when the creature shifted itself towards him. Apparently, 'bringing it down' didn't equate to 'actually killing it'.

Swallowing despite his parched throat, he peered over the bound wings and the heaving large black abdomen, till his eyes a large green one on the side of the creature's head. He jumped back, startled by the intensity of the glare. The narrow slit of its pupil was unmoving, fixed completely on his shaking self.

The years of Career Training came running through his head. They were mostly taught about how to slaughter their fellow men, but they also taught enough about combat against mutts. Considering his target was already in served to him a silver platter, - or a nylon net - all he needed to do was kill it, gut it. Gobber would have suggested eating it, but Hiccup decided he was that desperate yet. Panting heavily, he raised the electric drill with both trembling hands, his brows furrowed.

"I'm going to kill you, dragon," he told the creature in the most fearsome voice he could muster, which was a nasally rile. "I-I can do this. I can do this."

The creature's eye stared intently back, but strangely seemed to bear no great animosity. A warble seemed to come from its bounded maw - did it sound like a...plea?

Hiccup's hands jerked at the sound, but he bit the inside of his cheek and pressed against the trigger switch. The swerving needle spun with frenzy. Over the whirring, he continued his little rant, "I'm going to show everyone, even my da- well, especially people in my district, that I can take out a dragon just as well - or even _better_ than those lofty Peacekeepers. I'm a Career - okay, I was, but I'm sorta - oh, nevermind. But I _can_ take you down! I've taken you down! And I'm going to _finish_ it!"

The dragon's expression hadn't altered, and somehow, the sad gaze only served to unnerved him further.

Millions of thoughts crashed over him like a wave. Every logical part of him was egging him to get the job done, but every fibre of his body was screaming at him not to. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes, Hiccup poised the spinning needle over the creature, ready to take the plunge. But something made him take a final peek.

The green orb that made the dragon's eye was still fixed at him, before he finally heard a huff from it. The creature drew his eye shut, dropping itself against the grass and stone, resigned.

His heart was racing faster than a bullet train, but instead of anticipation, he only felt overwhelming dread, then self-revulsion, then horror. He raised the drill higher, his hand trembling.

He knew this was wrong.

This creature - this supposedly mindless, ferocious muttation that he had been taught was nothing more than an empty programme designed to kill and destroy, - was afraid. And of _him_. A puny, awkward outcast of a teen, with a boniness that made skeletons envious.

The funny thing was, he could almost imagine how this creature felt. He knew that the wrench of completely and utter defeat - he had felt that when he had heard his name ringing through the speakers, before Peacekeepers, people of his own District, dragged him unwillingly over to the stage and turned him into their sacrifice - their tribute to their dogmatic rulers.

And even if this creature was just an artificial intelligence, who's to say that it deserved to be slaughtered anymore than he did?

This mutt - this dragon was just like him. Trapped, bred and served like a meal. His mind went back to the book. The Night Fury never misses... The creature had the three opportunities to kill him yesterday, but it hadn't. Perhaps...perhaps it didn't have a choice in hunting him down, anymore than he had a choice in being here in the Arena.

They were both pieces, trapped in their sick little game, but it didn't mean he had to play it their way.

His fingers released the button of the drill handle, as he dropped his head in a sigh. He couldn't do it. Son of two great victors, and he couldn't even kill a muttation, tied up like a present. _Oh gods_, how did he expect himself to kill another human being?

Groaning as he wiped the sweat from his brow, he turned on his heel, ready to leave behind his prey, but he couldn't take his eyes off the black reptile. Its scaly lids were still over its eyes, and its breaths still heavy and deep. Hiccup examined at the cords around its wings and body, this time with uneasiness instead of relief. Mutts were programmes, but they still needed to eat, didn't they? If he left it here, who's to say that it wouldn't starve to death? Given the 'loose cannon' nature of dragons, he wouldn't put it past them to slaughter their own kin either.

Strangely, the situation brought him back to the Cornucopia, where his decision had resulted in consequences that he had never expected,nor ever wanted. The light metal band around his arm jingled loosely against his scabbed skin, as he raised the drill, hitting the button again.

The creature had chosen to keep its eyes shut, but the emerald orbs appeared again when it realized that the human leaning over him wasn't slicing it up, but rather slicing up the ropes with the spinning tip of the drill. The broken cords fell around as Hiccup worked through knot after knot, sighing that he had just ruined a perfectly good set of bolas. He could make more, but they would never be half as hardy as these. Anyway, it's not like he could throw them or anything, so it was all pretty pointless.

As the last of the ropes fell to the rocky ground, Hiccup suddenly found him thrown off his feet, his back slamming into rough surface of a nearby rock, while large, deep green eyes bore into his. Deep, hot, grey smoke emitted from the panting maw of the large reptilian creature, as it bore its huge white canines at him.

Their eyes were locked together; Hiccup's frightened ones with the creatures' menacing ones. The boy couldn't help scrambling back, trying to put as much distance between himself and snarling muttation -in which he didn't really succeed in, since it just drew closer. The creature growled a few more times, sending tremors up and down Hiccup's spine over and over, so much so that he felt his nerves were undergoing meltdown. The hairs on his arm almost bristled against the cool, jagged scales, and his heart was thumping so incredibly fast he was sure the creature could hear it. He drew sharp gasp, as desperate prayers to unknown gods rang over and over again in his head.

This was it. This was how he, Hiccup, son of the great victor of Stoick the Vast, would die in the Arena. Did the Gamemakers set this up, knowing his cowardice in killing? And he was stupid to fall for it - to indulge in a idealistic little fantasy that this creature - this monster, could possibly possess a sufficient streak of humanity.

A deafening shriek poured out the dragon's throat, so great that he even had to shut his eyes just to try keeping it out of his ears. His bones were all rattling;his auburn hair flying back, and the skin on his face felt like it was being ripped of his skull, leaving nothing but an empty, cool space -

Wait. What happened.

When he opened his eyes, he was just in time to catch the creature bounding away from him, crouching on all fours before shooting itself back into the greens, disappearing from sight, with only a screech, and a gust.

Still gasping, Hiccup lifted himself from the rock, his knees like jelly. Going over to the broken cords, he intended to salvage some of the rope, but the near-death experience had left him dazed, and he round himself staring disbelievingly at the bola ropes, before hours of over-exertion dehydration, and unpleasant shocks took their toil on him.

He swooned.

* * *

**S/N: **

**Initially, Merida's fight would ended with her in a tree, and tributes below, like Katniss. Then, apparently in THG, there was previously an arena that was just a city ruins, so I thought, why not? The castle ruins is based the one in Brave, with amendments.**

**Do I need to tell you who the black dragon is?**

**Death Recap as of this chapter (in case)**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**7 - Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno**

**9 - Nameless Boy**

**10 - Toothiana**

**Remaining Players**

**1**** \- Gothel, Shen**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup **

**3 - Hiro**

**4 - Dagur**

**5 - Merida**

**6 - Taffyta, Turbo**

**7 - Male Stabbington**

**8 - Rapunzel**

**9 - Nameless Girl**

**10 - Jack **

**11 - Vanellope, Ralph**

**12 - Elsa, Hans**

**Known Alliances (&amp; my l'il names for them)**

**The Careers: Gothel, Shen, Astrid, Dagur**

**Team J.E.: Jack, Elsa**

**The Dark Team (I have no idea why I call them that, but I do): Turbo, Taffyta, Male Stabbington**

**Up Next: Can't say, since my planning process has gone a bit crazy, but it'd be interesting. I hope. Sincerely.**

* * *

**A/N: School's killing me, but I found some solace in this chappie. Rewrote it a few times. Haven't watched the shows for sometime, so I'm getting rusty.**

**This update is early. I can still afford this now, but eventually I'll really have to stick to my once fortnightly schedule if homework's gonna get done.**

**Mailbox:**

**Awsomaniatica: I'm glad you like Jack and Elsa. The more I write, the more I actually like them together (covers ears and hisses 'still not shipping it!'). Oh, the others are running away from assorted beasts, from Careers, struggling to survive, starving, and all the boring stuff, y'know. **

**A way to uncreative girl: Thanks for the vote of confidence. But the more I look at my plans for this story, the more insane I realise my targets are.**

**countrygal15: I adore the dragons too! My personal favorite is the Screaming Death. This was I love best in the Arena here. Hiccup is absolutely right. He's nuts for staying in the Summer Quarter.**

**Nightingale82: I'm glad you like this. Can't tell what would happen to Jack or Merida (but this chapter does hint what might happen to our favorite redhead.)**

**Guest: Thanks for the review, and I hope you like what's coming. Death recap's in the S/N. **

**ElvisRules41: Glad your 'conversion' efforts on your birthday worked! And sleepover's are fun! Anna POV should be coming next chapter if all goes acc. to plan, if not, the one after it. **

**StarRunner1: Your review made me laugh. Thank you. **

**Lostblueheart 16: Glad you enjoy this. And don't worry. There's more Merida to come.**

**Thanks for Reviewing. Have a great week guys! See y'all in about two**** weeks!**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	23. Chapter 22: Poor Connection

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 22: Poor Connection

* * *

**District 12**

One of the biggest changes that happened in Anna's life since the reaping was that she took up residence in the Bjorgman household. No, the arrangement wasn't scandalous or anything even related to that sort, and even gossiping fools knew that. The brown-haired girl took over Kristoff's room, while the boy was sent to sleep in the stables. Bulda had been insistent that a sofa was no place for girl to sleep, and her son didn't really mind spending his night hours singing duets with his reindeer - though his neighbours possibly did. The Arendelle house was safely locked up, but largely neglected. Only weeks later would she admit that she had left because she had hated how silent it had become, which was why the lively Bjorgman home was both a comfort and a gift.

Another big change was that came with it was her job. The Hob was where the Bjorgmans made their living, and as the Games wore on, her reluctance to be apart from them became stronger – especially with the only son, though it wasn't admitted. Thus, she took up a job in the black market. Since the simpler folk hadn't much use for porcelain or glassware - luxury goods for the merchant class - she ended up being a sort of odd-job girl, though she occasionally made trinkets still. But for most part, she would part-time at stalls, shove snow, and chase the occasional fleeing swine down the village. The first few days, people had jeered at her, or had pitied on her, but unlike what Elsa had feared, none ever raised a hand at her. There were some shady characters in the backstreets, true, but Anna sparred with stable pillars everyday till she had the confidence to walk into the dusty old market without fear. In time, she found herself waving back whenever a crudely-dressed stranger lifted his cap at her. The soot plastered on her face and the calluses on her hands permitted her to sink into the background.

Well, not completely. In District 12, it was hard to forget who was an Arendelle.

She was shoveling the snow away from the market doors when she caught a couple of children, sitting on top a stack of chopped timber, staring her way.

"What's up?" She asked them, grimacing slightly as she lifted a spadeful of snow, then tossing it away. There was a silence, as the children exchanged looks with each other, squirming in their seats.

"Okay..." She considered their expressions, "you guys looked freaked. This, this is bad, right?" The kids didn't answer, still twiddling uneasily with their thumbs, or poking at the timber beneath them.

Sighing, Anna speared the spade in the ground. Resting one arm on its handle and the other on her hip, she pressed on, "C'mon, say something. Don't worry. I'm not the scary one." Her jibe at her sister was almost automatic, so much so that she quite unprepared for how hollow and empty she felt after it.

The kids didn't really notice her own stricken face, because one of them eventually dare to inquire, "Why don't you just make the snow go away?"

Anna shot him a puzzled look. "But I am. I mean, I'm _shoveling snow_." She tapped on the shovel handle with emphasis.

"Not the normal way," another boy corrected, talking almost as though he thought her stupid. "What he means is..." He made a little wavy gesture with his hand, till Anna finally understood what he meant.

"Okay, here goes," she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. Preparing herself for the speech, she took in a breath, then began, "One, I don't have ice-powers. It's an Elsa-exclusive department. I've been trying - trust me .Two, I don't have any powers whatsoever. If I did, I would have awesome tropical magic that'd cover the world in sand-"

She found that the children's eyes had all widened and their jaws have all slackened.

"-and I digress." Clearing her throat in hope of retaining any remaining dignity, she continued, "Three, I didn't know about Elsa's powers. If you were watching television yesterday, you would've heard her confirm that. Four, no, I don't resent her for not telling me. She had her reasons, and if they were good enough for her, they were good enough for me." She barely noticed that her voice had climbed an octave. "Five, no, it's not her fault that my parents passed away, okay? She was scared, and she had every right to be. C'mon, she was, like, thirteen! You guys are around that age. You'd know how that feel like, right?"

The children exchanged glances again, but this time in trepidation rather than embarrassment. Then slowly they nodded.

"Exactly!" Anna exclaimed, dropping her shovel as she did. Stumbling forward to picking it up, she cresumed, "So, how can she help being so afraid of what people think of her, huh? I mean, if a girl started spraying ice from her hand, who _wouldn't_ be freaked?"

Pausing to consider her words, her shoulders dropped as she rubbed her lip with the back of her forefinger. "Okay, I shouldn't have phrased it that way. But anyway – again - Elsa's having a hard time, and _I'm_ having a hard time, so I think I should really-" She just sighed as she leaning on the shovel, exhaling heavily as she did. "-I should just get back to work."

The nervous children took that as their cue to leave, so they scattered off the sacks, back into the market, casting slightly frightened looks her way. Anna huffed, blowing back a stray strand that fell in her periphery. Squinting up her hair led her to wondering what the state of her hair-dressage was. So she went over to the market entrance, where there was a stainless steel bar that supported the weight of the heavy wooden doors. She peered at her reflection, pretending to be straightening out the messy brown locks, but her eyes really were fixed on the single streak of white running down from her scalp.

"Well, someone's preening at her while the rest of us scrape for a decent living."

"I don't preen. I'm trying to maintain a picture of _sophisticated grace_," Anna replied flippantly, trying to fill her void with irritation, but failing. Bantering with the blonde boy had become a habit, and even a joy - though neither would ever confess so.

"Grace? Yeah, right," he answered disbelievingly, but never scornfully. He was covered in dust from head to toe, black lines around his arms and face telling where he had been for the last few hours. Since he had passed his last reaping without being thrown into the Arena, he had been sent to work in the coal mines now. Anna knew he hated the job: because he had said so often enough, and because she knew his heart really belonged to the mountains.

"Are you done with shovelling?"

"More or less." She shrugged. She didn't feel the need to him how little of her heart would be in the job if she continued. The encounter with the children had suddenly left her with little motivation for anything, in a matter of fact.

They walked side by side into the Hob; her smelling of hay and damp, him of soot and dust. Their collective scents were of course quite insignificant compared to the odour of freshly slicked tar on the wooden beams, the musty smell of chicken feed and the smoke from the burning coal, rising from the fire pits in the market.

It was a winter's afternoon, but it wasn't a lazy one. People bustled about the Hob. Traders bartered their illegal goods with suspicious customers. Children played around the fire pits, daring each other to touch the burning sticks. Those who had come to Hob just for the company ended up sitting by the community holo-projector, watching yet another year of gory Games.

On the first day of the Games, Anna could barely tear herself away from the television. It wasn't because it was very nerve-wrecking - not that it _wasn't,_ either - but forty-eight hours of television told her more about Elsa than fifteen years had. Or apparently, as last night's television revealed, a bit less than fifteen years, since she knew about Elsa's power an age ago, just that she hadn't remember it.

Wow. Who knew how confusing it was to not know that you couldn't remember what you used to know.

Obviously, people had asked questions, and by the end of the first day, she already made a list of answers she would provide. On the second day, a Peacekeepr had stopped by to make some inquiries, but fortunately it seemed more to do with Elsa being a tribute, than Elsa being a ..._mutant_.

Why 'mutant', though? Why not just call them 'magicians', 'warlocks', or some cool name, instead of something as creepy as '_mutant_'? It made Elsa sound like she was nothing more than one of those weird mutts that they had in the Arena.

Or maybe that's what people saw her as. People in the Capitol. After all, they didn't see the tribute any different from animals.

Anna pursed her lips together, her jaw tightening as both of them approached the screen, pushing through the watching crowds. Some complained that Kristoff's bulky form was blocking their view, forcing the annoyed boy to shuffle unwillingly to the back. But when Anna drew nearer, no one said a word. In a matter of fact, people drew back, giving her space to go forward. One of the men sitting near the front gave up his seat to her, and she took it with a nod of thanks. As she pressed herself against the uncomfortable wooden stool, she turned her eyes to the screen.

At the moment, they were showing the District 10 boy - the handsome boy called Jack – stalking an antelope in the distance. The day before, Anna had been pleased to announce to Kristoff quite triumphantly that he was much better looking than Hans; the blonde boy had just rolled his eyes at that declaration.

She was still mad at her boyfriend – her _ex_-boyfriend. She had officially declared herself _'un-girlfriend-ified_' by the end of Interview night, after much tears and tissues, and lots of frank advice from Kristoff. She had reiterated it at post-Bloodbath events, though it was a little more subdued and a little distracted by her sisters powers - after all the excitement of almost dying and everything got out of the way. That was until the entire ice castle collapsed and the red-headed boy had almost died saving her sister. After the Careers cut him up and left him on the mountain, Anna was reduced into conflicting emotions all over again.

She couldn't ever get back in a relationship – or _whatever_ it was she had with Hans - with someone who liked her sister, that was sure. Yet, she couldn't hate someone who risked his life to save Elsa's. That was the reason she had used to explain why she had felt a wash of relief when she had watched a little parachute descend from the sky, landing in the snow-covered peak in the Winter Quarter, its 'pinging' ring waking the injured red-headed boy from his unconsciousness.

Back in the Hob, the crowd watched as Elsa appeared from the edge of the screen, following closely behind the boy. Jack was giving her instructions, though Anna couldn't really catch the details. All she noticed was that Elsa rolled back her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she lifted her arms in preparation. The District 10 boy then ran forward, yelling and thrashing about. It was noted that a deer began prancing off, away from them. Anna would have thought the entire episode the most terrible hunting practice in history, if she didn't see pillars of ice rising in front of the fleeing deer at the last minute, sealing the creature in place. The District 10 boy then called out to Elsa, before both of them approached the ice cage.

"Man, if we had that ice, we could be digging out those coals much faster," she caught some old miner in the back row say. She supposed that this would actually be considered a mild comment, compared to all the sharp exclamations that had run across the town during the Bloodbath. Assuming the collective gasp hadn't been about the dying children part, she had meant.

If it stopped there, she wouldn't have minded that much. But it didn't.

"Y'know, if she had shown it to us folk, she could've helped in lots of stuff. Building, repairing, the like," she heard another guy add. It was followed by murmurs of disagreement.

"You're joking, aren't you? The minute she'd show those 'abilities' of hers in public, she put our entire district in danger. She was right to have kept it hidden. We don't need any more Peacekeepers patrolling the place. Living's hard enough without those damned whiteys marchin' around."

"It's already too late for that. Haven't you seen the 'keepers fillin' the square recently?" a cross old voice spat out. "The Capitol never took kindly on people who're different."

There was no argument there. _Different_ people, especially those who could potentially pose a threat to authority, somehow always disappeared suddenly in the District. Perhaps Anna could convince herself that Elsa was much safer in the Games than back home, if she hadn't seen the fire-breathing muttations on yesterday's programme. Nothing terrible had appeared in the Winter Quarter yet, but still...

"She has condemned us all then," was another bleak remark. "They'll blame us all. Say that we've hiding her or something."

"-bet they'll use her some sick excuse to cut our pay, or whip us blue and black-"

"She could have really helped in irrigation, you know? Remember that awful dry spell two summers ago-"

"-damn, maybe you know, if she had told us about this, she could have added to our forces. Give us some chance against those Keepers-"

"- Bet you she could take out those guns. You've seen how fast she shoots-"

"-and you know that time went then was that awful plague of fever during spring? She could have helped a lot, y'know -"

"-nice girl, but you know what? She's selfish. All the good you can do with those powers-"

"-always respected Adgar Arendelle - Lord rest his soul. He was a good man, a good mayor. A daughter like that is nothing but a disgrace - the way she endangers everyone like that. If it wasn't for he, he and Idun might be still among us today-"

The last comment was said hardly louder than a whisper, the speaker probably assuming that she couldn't hear. But Anna had caught every word, every insult that was spoken against the first born of the Arendelle household. Rising from the stool, she spun around and yelled, "Oh, _QUIET_!"

The entire black market suddenly fell into a hush, even amongst those who weren't sitting by the projector. All eyes were set on her and under other circumstances she would have coiled away in embarrassment. But her blood was boiling too fiercely to register the scene she was creating, and even if she could, she would have thought it worth it. Her brows were furrowed so deeply that she could sense a throbbing against her forehead.

"While all of you _gossiping old crones_ are sitting comfortably in fire and warmth, my _sister_," she pointed that the projection screen, ignoring the fact that it was now showing other tributes, "is actually fighting for her life. I know you're all having fun contemplating a bunch of 'what-ifs'. Well! Try this on for size; what if _I_ was the one born with a bunch of weird powers, huh?" Her voice was in a rising crescendo, ringing out against the rafters of the marketplace. "What if _I_ had to live in fear of what people thought of me? What if I had to live with the guilt of doing something? And also the guilt of _not_ doing something?"

Her cheeks were flushed red, and her shoulder muscles were tensed. Her feet were positioned apart, and his fist clenched, ready face those who challenged her. "Now, ask yourself!" She called out to the market, her voice echoing against the wooden walls. "What if it was my _daughter_ inside? Or my granddaughter, for some of you," she nodded to the older crowd. "Or, _what if _it was my sister in there?"

Her questions were met with complete silence. There was not even the cackling of hens, nor the baying of donkeys. All were hanging onto her words.

She was quaking, but with fury, not fear. "If any of you - any of you at all," she gestured wildly at the crowd with emphasis, "respect my _father –_ respect _me_," she thumbed at her own chest, her blue seeming to blaze to life, "you would show _Elsa_ some respect. Because it's neither your daughter nor your sister that's in _that cursed Arena_."

Her speech done, her point made, she spun on her heel, stomping angrily towards the doors. Her exit would have been pretty dramatic, if she hadn't tripped over a pick-axe on the way out. Cursing silently, she picked herself up, brushed the dirt, before marching furiously through the market gates.

She was wrong apparently. The fear of those who were different was not limited just to the Capitol.

* * *

By the time Kristoff had found her again, it was nearing sunset. He wouldn't have found her all, if he had heard a singing voice from the backlot of the Arendelle house.

"-_we used to be best buddies, but now we're not. I wished you'd tell me whhhyyyy-"_

He headed off the road, passing the house, following the sniffling voice.

"-_Do you wanna build a snowman? It doesn't have to be a snowman."_

He found her kneeling into the snow, sweeping it up in her arms. Packing it together into an odd shaped oval, she piled it onto the other ball of snow. A snippy remark on reliving childhood was on the tip of his tongue, but for usually frank and inappropriate self, Kristoff somehow managed to show remarkable discretion in knowing when not to rub into her already gaping wound. He leaned against one of the back porch beams, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.

"Fun."

He cocked his head at her. "Huh?"

She turned to him, idly gathering up another lump of snow, explaining sadly, "I forgot about the powers, but I remembered the fun."

"Snowmen and... ice-powers," he mused. "That makes a lot of sense, actually."

"Yeah," Anna remarked somberly, as she rolled up the lump into another severely deformed snow-not-ball. She picked it up and dumped it drearily on top of the two other shapes.

Kristoff thought about commenting about her needing more practice in the art of snowmen-building, but wisely perceived again that this would not be well-received.

She pressed the snow shapes together, trying to pack in the crumbling snow. Staring at it for a while, she picked up a pair of twigs fallen from a barren willow, jabbing it into the supposed torso of the snowman. Taking up the carrot she had specially prepared for the occasion, she shoved it into the head - or at least Kristoff guessed at it was the head. At the back of his head, he knew the mounting lull would break into something worst if he didn't stop it now, so he inquired, "Do mind me asking something?"

"Go ahead." Her pallor showed how little her enthusiasm was.

Clearing his throat, he prepared himself for a possible sucker punches and related injuries. "Do you blame her for, you know, your parents' death?" Deciding that it was _waaay_ too insensitive, he elaborate hastily, "I mean, for real. I know you've had your little speech memorized for other people. Heard you practice in front of the mirror." The boy's awkwardness melted into seriousness, his brown eyes staring deep into her blue ones, asking for an honest answer.

She slumped, her eyes dropping to the ground, mumbling, "Well, okay. I'm a little mad that she didn't tell me. The powers bit, I mean. I mean, I know it's a big deal to her, and I get why she wanted to hide it and everything. And I know how freaky Peacekeepers are-"

"Anna, you're rambling," Kristoff cut in firmly, gazing more intently at her.

Anna sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Basically it comes down to the fact that we're sisters, but she doesn't know me enough. _Apparently_." She made a little pout as she said that, but it looked more dejected than irritated. "That she'd think I can't keep a secret - because I totally can! I keep millions of secrets! I had a boyfriend two whole weeks before she even noticed! But of course, the boyfriend was _also_ keeping secrets from me-" Her expression darkened again.

"Anna," Kristoff repeated, trying to get her to focus again. He succeeded, because her head jerked up, meeting his eyes at their own accord.

"Basically," she reluctantly began again, fiddling with her braids. "Elsa never tried knowing me better, and I've never got to know her better. We're _sisters, _and we know so little about each other – _of_ each other. So that's – that's pretty bad."

Kristoff nodded sympathetically, but he kept silent.

"So, really, I'm not mad at her for not saving my parents. But," she folded her arms tightly across her chest, inhaling sharply, "I am mad that she'd _think_ I would."

A gentle breeze swept by, but its bite was ignored by the two teenagers. The brunette brushed the snow off her attire as she shakily rose to her feet. Kristoff instinctively reached out to steady, and she made no move to remove him. As she lifted her head towards the empty old house, he couldn't miss the traces of tears down her cheeks, nor the red of her eyes.

He bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should or he shouldn't. Seeing that the girl was already this far gone, he supposed it couldn't possible hurt.

"You know, you asked me to make your sister something for her 19th birthday right?"

Anna nodded. He noted that her eyes were welling up when he mentioned '19th', and he felt a pang in his chest when he realized that they might never get to see that day.

"Well, I actually hadn't started working on her gift yet. Her birthday's in Summer, you know-" Anna's brow creased, slightly puzzled as to where this might be going. He couldn't help grinning."-so the little charcoal pin that you gave her - which she turned into _ice, really quite awesome - _was actually _yours_." His smile only widened at her hanging jaw. "You have no idea how weird it is to have two girls tells you to make the same thing for each other."

Kristoff removed little paper packet from his pocket, similar to the one she had seen a week ago. "I had to make this one in a rush. So it's not made of ice – that's 'an Elsa-exclusive department.' "

She was still gawking, even when she took the packet, opening it up quickly. There in her hand sat another coal pin, the crocus pattern on it being exactly the same as that of Elsa's.

"_Oh. My. Gosh_." A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. She covered her mouth, as she stared wide eyed at the coal pin.

"Don't look so disappointed," he quipped, earning an snicker from her as she nudge him in the arm. The watery beam on her face was honestly the most genuine expression of happiness he had seen from her since the Reaping, and that made him glad. She was shaking with excitement as she unclasped the pin, trying to clip it to her collar. Her fingers were trembling too much of course, so she ended up pricking her finger.

Kristoff rolled his eyes. "Here, let me."

He pried her fingers off the pin, feeling both weird and warm when their hands touched. She eventually let go, trusting him to fasten it properly. When he drew back, he dragged her to the window pane of the house, allowing her to have a good look at herself in the reflection.

"Guess you girls know each other better than you give y'all credit for," he told her, half in jest, half meaning it.

Squealing in absolute joy and delight, she suddenly jumped him with a hug. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"Sure," he answered stiffly, trying not to blush so keenly as he felt her arm tighten around his shoulders.

"Oh." She leapt back down, releasing him, "Elsa got me to save some chocolate for my birthday. Let's go eat it now." Transformed into a bubbly bundle of joy, she leaped up to the house door, whipping out the keys to unlock it.

"Okay," he answered automatically, turning away just in case there was still any red on his face showing. Then he processed what she had said. "Wait, you're inviting me to your house to eat _week-old chocolate?"_

_"_So… you can stomach sleeping with a smelly old reindeer, but you can't eat a little stale chocolate?" Anna raised a brow at him. "If that it's even _possible_ chocolate goes stale."

"Look, body-hygiene and food-hygiene are two completely separate, unrelated fields."

"Oh really, prove it to me, 'Professor Bjorgman'."

"Well, it's simple. Germs that you get from hay lice-"

"Wait. Could I finish the chocolate first, then you tell me?"

* * *

**Capitol - Game Centre**

"Sorry, sir, there's no sign of the Muttuation _NF001_," the Gamemaker informed him in a business-like tone, but his steeliness melted away into nervousness under his master's glare.

Pitch Black considered shoving the Gamemaker off the platform - a little tumble would teach the idiot a lesson in fear, if nothing else. But he didn't really want to distract the other Gamemakers from their duties. They were approaching evening in game-time, and he needed the underlings functional during the closing phase of today. The death count had been nil for the last twenty four hours, so they really needed to address that, didn't they?

Deepening his glare at the quaking milksop of a Gamemaker, he told him, "Keep an eye on the District 2 boy. Tell me if he does anything else that's - strange. As for the Night Fury..." He brooded over this a while, glancing at the screen. When the creature had been shot out of the sky, the microchip containing both the tracker and the command signal had been ripped off. In another words, there was a loose mutt in the Arena. But he didn't have time to worry about that now. "If it turns up on any of the cameras, inform me immediately."

"Yes, Mr Black sir."

The Gamemaker was all too happy to get away, but Pitch jerked him back at the last moment, to add one last command. "You will speak to _no one_ of this."

The Gamemaker paled, but he nodded, before skittering back to his workplace.

The Head Gamemaker gazed around the Game Centre, checking that all his subordinates occupied with something or another, before opening a holographic screen in front of him. Typing a few codes into the input box, the setting reconfigured themselves before bringing up several screens displaying the each one of the remaining tributes.

"Sun down in two hours," one of the Gamemakers sitting in the inner circle announced.

"Reducing storm in third quarter to slight drizzle," another told his colleagues, as he turned a dial on his interface.

Pitch scrolled through the video feeds. With close to 700 million cameras in the place, and the millions of records building of every micro-second, an average human could never keep track of all them at once. Even if they worked with fifty or so Gamemakers and a hundred programmers. Fortunately, being 'average' was never an affliction that Pitch ever suffered from.

Amongst the videos offered in the ever-growing data records, he narrowed down to three that he actually wanted to view. As he was about to open them, he was interrupted. "Sir?"

Just because he was capable of high-level multitasking didn't mean that he enjoyed it all the time, thus interruption was _very, very_ much unwelcome. Snarling, he stared intently at the Gamemaker, who was keenly aware at how close she came to being extirpated. Gulping down terror, she explained herself, "You asked to review the muttation for the third quarter."

Rolling his eyes, he resisted the temptation to pick her up and fling her out of the building - it would take ages to patch up the hole, after all. Scowling, he marched over to the table. Squirming under her bosses' dark glower, the Gamemaker shakily hit the button on the interface, bringing up the holographic image of chosen muttation.

The impressive menacing ferocity possessed by the creature seemed to assuage the Head Gamemaker's temper. He smiled slightly as he watched the great beast rise to hind legs, growling and clawing at the air, baring its razor sharp teeth. "Quite an excellent specimen, this one is. Yes, send it in, but only after nightfall - it hunts best in the dark, after all. Have the death recap delayed until it's complete. We need to have a death before we can actually report one."

"Yes, sir." The Gamemaker nodded, relieved to see him in better spirits.

She bent back over the screen, re-setting the program, while Pitch was about to return to his own work, when someone else called, "Mr. Black, sir?"

Spinning towards the source of the voice, he felt slightly better when he saw the unfortunate Gamemaker shrink back in fright. Taking halting stride towards the trembling man, he asked in an unusually quiet tone, "How can I help you, my good man? What could possibly be _so_ important as to garner _my _attention?"

Being experienced enough to recognize a warning when he heard one, the Gamemaker supplied his answer meekly, "Oh, it's just that there's been another sponsor gift pending approval in for Number Ten. I'm not sure if we should pass it thro-"

"Give me that." Pitch impatiently snatched the man's interface, tweaking with the controls until the request for the sponsor gift came up. The gift was just a scarf - a poor choice of winter gear, in Pitch's opinion. However, it was the message attached to it that caught his interest.

"_Oh, my_, _my_." A grin appeared on his gaunt face as he read the angry words. "Someone's _very_ mad with his mentee. I've never quite thought it possible."

"Shall I pass it through, sir?"

"Yes, yes. If it's just winter gear, or fire-starting equipment, approve it immediately, as long as the boy has the funds - which I don't doubt he would." Pitch pulled a face at the thought - he never did like the pretty-boy variety. "Get me to vet only if it's a weapon. With him working with the ice mutant, we'll need to be careful with what we put in her hands."

"Rightaway, sir."

While the man started working again, Pitch waited a while to see if any would dare bother him again. Seeing there were no takers, he finally returned to his own screen. Tapping on the interface, he opened the videos.

The first video was nothing remarkable; it just showed the spiky-haired boy from District 3 staring down at some map in his hand, as he passed under the warm greens of the birches. His leg had healed up long ago, thanks to the extremely generous donation - it looked rather peculiar, since the boy hadn't shown himself to particularly talented in anything yet. The boy's behaviour did seem rather out-of-place too, the way he was feeling along the cliff walls, only stopping when his hand came in contact with some moss. Pitch typed a few commands in the interface, before scrolling to the next video.

The next video was pulled from the archives rather than the live feeds. It was one of the many controversial scenes that took place on the Bloodbath day. He observed as the District 10 girl - he smirked a little as he recalled the harsh words written for the 10 boy - sang the lullaby, and her blonde ally's hair started to glow. He pondered a while over, as he rewound the clip, peering more closely as the yellow light grew from the roots of the girl's hair, before it spread into the rest of the golden strands. He had to admit he had given up on Rapunzel, but apparently he was mistaken - she was one of the late-blooming variety, which suggested her abilities weren't in their purest form, but still interesting nonetheless. He would have loved to better study further on her powers. If only the Games permitted such...

He went finally on to the last clip. This was also from the archives, but it was more his own viewing pleasure than anything else. It was a video clip taken at early dawn after the Bloodbath day, where a magnificent pink and blue ice castle came to being on the snowy peak of the highest mountain in the Winter Quarter. It was a breath-taking sight, and even one who loved the darkness so had to admire so shining a masterpiece when it was presented to him. Gamemakers weren't allowed to bet on the Games for obvious reasons, but there weren't any official rules against favoritism, which was why most of the odds were always in the Careers' favor. The tribute that Pitch had chosen to favor this year was one who did take him by pleasant surprise, but was unfortunately in the bad books of the Capitol's council. As much as he loved games, politics was often a very tiresome one to play.

"Sir?"

His head shot up, an instant frown across his pale countenance. As his thin lips parted to give a yell, he recognized that one who spoke to him was the very first one started bothering him. With an extraordinary display of self-restraint, he didn't rip off the man's head, only hissing furiously, "_What is it?"_

"Ah, y-you told m-me to inform y-you if-" the Gamemaker stuttered haltingly.

Pitch interjected swiftly, "Has the Night Fury been located?"

The Gamemaker shook his head, swallowing as he desperately tried to recover his speech.

"Well, _speak_, fool!

The Gamemaker was sweating, uneasily shifting himself. Finally, he released a tumble of incoherence.

Pitch raised a brow. "What?"

The man sucked in a breath, making sure that his words were clearer. "The District 2 boy, sir..."

"Yes...?" Pitch was tapping his foot with increased irritability.

"Well, sir, he's _gone._"

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

Hiccup was dead.

Well, not exactly dead yet, but there was no way one could escape death three times in a day. If it wasn't the Gamemakers who messing with him, it was the Gods, whoever they were. And if it wasn't the Gods, then well, life just hated him.

The best place to start would be after he had regained consciousness. He had then gone, albeit reluctantly and groggily, to retrieve his belongings and continue his search for water, groaning to himself as he realized how to stupid he must have appeared on television. He had gone another long tired hour of searching for water when he had realized that it seemed that the sun was heading deeper and deeper into the west. Assuming that the raids were worst at night - he had discovered unfortunately there were dragons around the Summer Quarter at all times in the day too - shelter became a greater priority than water, since he'd really rather not undergo the experiences of the previous night all over again.

Biting back thirst, he had trudged warily around the Summer Quarter, seeking a suitable hideout for the night, hoping that a water source would conveniently be nearby. There had been quite a few caves and some little crevices, but they were too easily accessible for the dragons.

He had been so exhausted and parched that he hadn't really noticed when he suddenly skidded down an uneven slope, lost his footing altogether and collided face first with a huge rock ledge. He had drawn himself back, rubbed his new bruise on his nose, when he had discover _it._

_It_ being a circle-shaved engraving on the rock.

It hadn't really been obvious, since it had been blended in well by the specks of green and brown dotting the rock face. He had gazed up the towering escarpment above him, before scrutinizing at the perfect circle of the etching again.

It was obviously artificial. Well, most of the Arena was, but the Gamemakers never made the artificiality this obvious before. He had rubbed his chin with his right, twitching his head side to side, tracing it out with his writing hand. A perfect circle, on rock face, in the middle of nowhere. His mission and his hurt had been momentarily forgotten.

As he had traced the circle over again, scrapping away more of the dirt and moss as he did, he had suddenly stopped to stare at the metallic arm band that jingled against his skin as he moved his arm. He had slowly removed the band, squinting at it, then looked back at the carving. He hadn't been sure why he never noticed before, but it seemed that both were perfect circles, and both were exactly the same size.

Whether it had been a stroke of genius, a flash of luck or just whip of curiosity, he would never know. But when he lifted the band and slid it into the circle engraving, it was an exact fit.

He could have sworn he had heard a click sound when he pushed in the arm band in fully. It had been followed by a crack, then a groan from the rock cliff. He immediately drew back the arm band, slipping it back on. He stepped away as the stone walls split open, revealing the entrance to a dimly-lit shaft.

Giving a yelp, he darted away to hide behind a tangled of bushes some distance away. Peeking over to see what horror he had released this round, he was mildly disappointed - but not _that_ much, he had had a pretty exciting day already - to find that nothing happened. Creeping toward the dark entrance, he had glanced around him, before sucking a breath and stepping in.

The shaft had been dark, but it wasn't pitch black. In a matter of fact, it wasn't a shaft at all, but a narrow ravine, webbed with thorny vines and thick mosses, and the huge stone cliffs that flanked his way stopped more light from coming in. He had trekked deeper and deeper through the gorge, when he became aware that the entrance had sealed up behind him. Alarmed, yet knowing he couldn't do anything about it, he ventured resignedly forward.

The further he had trudged, the brighter his vision had become. Taking this as encouragement, and feeling keenly uncomfortable with the two wall pressing against him, as he had begun racing through the gorge, skipping over the stone and dirt. What he wasn't expecting was that the path abruptly steepened, and he couldn't stop himself when he started hurtling forward, toppling over, before rolling off the cliff.

He had cursed himself, and the all-possible gods, and life, and everything in the world as he had felt the ground disappear beneath himself. His last thoughts had been dismaling contemplating why did he have to die in such a stupid way. Some defeated part of him reasoned with him that he was already heavily injured, and overtly dehydrated, and considering the odds had long been against already, perhaps it would be better if he just died. At least Astrid wouldn't get to kill him.

Which brings us to where he was right now. Toppling off a cliff, heading to his imminent demise.

As he plummeted downwards, he was met with a sharp slap across his face first, before it hit the rest of his body. He vaguely registered a sort of cooling sensation licking around his red arms, and something sharp and cold piercing into his burn wounds. When he exhaled, he could feel the bubbles running up his face, frizzing through his hair before they scurried up towards...

Sorry. Back-track. _Bubbles? Surface?_

His eyes suddenly shot open, and then he wished he didn't. The soreness of around his cataracts increased when he exposed to them to blur of blue. It was fortunate that it wasn't salt water, or else the sting would be far worse.

_Wait. _Bubbles, plus no salt, equals...

He flailed his limbs, forcing his tired body to move up. The liquid around him clung to clothes desperately, and the weight of his bag was tearing him down, but he didn't give in. Unwanted coolness started pouring into his mouth, giving relief to his dry throat at first, but only to start him on a struggle between breathing and choking. His muscles were asleep, but his brain was awake, and his determination drove him forward, refusing to relent until he broke the surface.

He was gasping, as he groped around in the water. His chest hurt, and so did his arms, but he didn't care. He was _alive._ Third time today, and he was, by some miracle, still _alive_.

Coughing and spluttering as he swam dizzily towards shore, he blearily grasped about the water's edge, practically clawing onto the grass to drag himself up. Slinging off his water-logged bag, he intended to fling it somewhere, but it was too heavily, and his arms were too weak, and it fell with a 'plonk' by his side. He coughed again, and he could also hear his ribs shifting agonizingly as a volley of liquid came spilling out his mouth. Streams of water ran down his jaw and arms, he shivered as a breeze blew, but its chill was muffled by the smack of pain that he felt when he collapsed into the grass, landing on his side.

Squinting dizzily at his surroundings, he noted that he was in some kind of closed cove. The walls around seemed rather high, so he hoped that there would deter any mutts from coming in. Splashing sounds somewhere told him that there was a waterfall nearby, and its rumble was like a lullaby to his ears, luring him back to res.

_'No, no.' _His common sense wanted him to wake up. He was soaked through and through. With evening coming, he was going to freeze, Summer or not, if he didn't dry up right now. He knew how the cold the winds could be.

_'But all my stuff are already wet.' _His exhaustion wearily replied. It would take ages - or at least in this state in between excruciating agony and worn oblivion, it would take ages for him to set up even a simple fire.

Fatigue eventually won, and he drifted off to sleep in the puddle, as the Sun crept into the west of the Arena.

That was why he never heard the flapping of wings as a scaly reptilian creature landed by the grass beside, nor did he feel the warmth of its breath blowing into his auburn hair. He didn't know that the creature had retracted its teeth, grabbed onto his leg, before dragging him away from the lake. He didn't know that the creature made a distasteful look at the bag, and considered throwing it back into the water, but didn't. He didn't hear the hissing that emerged from the creatures mouth as it spat into a bush near him, liting it up, allowing its flames to warm the boy's shudderingform.

And even if he happened to be awake, there was no way he could know that everything that happened since he entered the ravine had not appeared on screen at all.

* * *

**S/N:**

'**Idun' and 'Adgar' are not exactly officially said to be Elsa and Anna's parents, but theirs are the names that appear on the grave stones.**

**The cove in the Summer Quarter is the same as the one in Httyd.**

**A long overdue view from District 12! Finally! And finally getting to see Pitch after ages. I'd written him in previous chapters, actually, but removed his bits because of word count.**

**As you may have seen, I've created a cover for this fic! (Yes, I drew it. I'm sucky artist, but sometimes I make things that don't look too repulsive.) If you like the symbols drawn on the cards in the cover (each card matches one of the Big Five), there are bigger pics of them on my deviantart (link in the bio). I'm also working on some sketches of characters for this fic, but so far I've drawn only girls…because I can only draw girls. But when I'm upload them, I'll announce here, in case anyone's curious. **

**As requested by mackjoyo35**, the **Metal (Arm) Band Band (lol):**

**Hiro - 2 bands**

**Jack**

**Rapunzel**

**Hiccup (but Hiro doesn't know that)**

**Next Up: I have no idea exactly, but perhaps you can guess a little from this chapter. It will likely contain some action though.**

* * *

**A/N: Tired. Why write anything else here?**

**Mailbox:**

**WarriorQueen 14: I just realized your name rhymes. Glad you noticed the intro - out of the five main movies featured in this story, it's my favorite intro (my second favourite would be Frozen's, then Tangled's). Boy, fitting in 'mysterious black dragon' in the THG context is still tough, but I hope it'll stay convincing in the chapters in to come. Glad it worked for that bit. Thanks reviewing! **

**EuphoricalMusicalTieDyeRainbow: Nice to see you finally in account! Hope you enjoyed the Anna POV! Ended up being half a Kristoff PoV though  
**

**mackjoyo35: When I saw your review, I was scratching my head for metal band song I might have accidentally inserted, then after much thought, I think I figured out what you meant? I hope I did, anyway. **

**Awsomaniatica: A bear just to scare? That would be too easy. How Stabbington joined the Dark team? Well, Stabbington is quite manipulatable (as seen in the movie when Gothel tricked the twins), and Turbo's quite a ...sweet talker (I had to say it!). The princess bride? But who would the weird spanish dude? Taffyta? An amusing idea, nonetheless. **

**A way to u creative girl: Fun insane is always good, it's where the best ideas come from. But really, even in this chapter I went off plan, and started writing extra. I'm starting to suspect a 50 chapter story coming. Yep, I'm dead.**

**SmilingStarcat: Wow! Thanks for your super long review. I gave them maces really because of King Candy's specter and Taff's lollipop (I'm serious...), but yeah, your right, they do look odd with them. **

**Hiccup's food supply is bark and berries, and occasional meat caught by snare (see chap 17, 19) (he is good with his hands, so he can build snares well). Flight equipment ...Haha. Who said anything about flying?**

**What the bracelet does, or what it represents, would be revealed at the end, of course. As for how Hiro 'gets' the other bands, it's because in the beginning he had four bands, but they were stuck together, so they look like one arm band - this is his token (chap 13). To separate them, he twists the band and breaks off a 'smaller' band to hand out (chap 15, 19). Note that Hiro only has four, because someone else *ahem* was wearing the fifth one, and that someone passed it to someone else *ahem* (chap 14), but as of now, Hiro thinks there are only four bands in the Arena.**

**StarRunner1: Haha, thanks for the effort (To be frank, your effort made me laugh more than the dialogue itself, but good try, haha. Thank you.) Thanks that you found Turbo (somewhat) creepy, because it's really hard to make him creepy and wacky at the same time - why can't all villains just be menacing and insane?( well they wouldn't be good villains if they were all that way, I suppose). Thanks for reviewing. **

**clara0414: Thank you really and truly for your super duper long review! It must have take. a lot of your time, and I do appreciate you teaching me the FANBOYS rule. (Easy ****grammar. Yay!) I do believe in keeping a certain standard of English in writing, so I'm fine with nit-picking. I don't have time to edit the grammar in previous chappies (last time I tried, I took one hour for the first prologue alone), but I'll try to be conscious with my semi-colons in the future. I can't promise that I'll finish this story, but I do have everything planned till the ending (and am planning sequel/s). I know that I'm fallible, but I will try. Once again, thank you very much!**

**Guest (28 Jan): There's a hint of what happened to Hans here, if you caught it. A fuller explanation for it would come in later chapters.**

**Guest (30 Jan): Thank you! I hope you'll still find it so in future chappies.**

**Nightingale82: Aww, thanks. I had to rewrite Turbo's parts quite a number of times, because he's so hard to work with, but I'm glad it worked out for you. Thanks for reviewing! **

**See y'all in two weeks. Or less. Or more. I really don't know anymore. **

**Review! Critique! Ask Questions!**


	24. Chapter 23: The Things that Haunt the Ni

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 23: The Things that Haunt the Night

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**Summer Quarter**

When she had chosen to leave the Spring Quarter, she hadn't really made a definitive plan. It had been pretty much 'Scary Careers are in this Quarter, so I should go somewhere else'. Before she knew it, she had crossed the borders from the sweet flowers and the birches to the harsh rock and thorns of the Summer Quarter. And for a supposedly 'summer' Summer Quarter, it had been too cold at night.

That opinion hadn't lasted long, because hardly an hour after sun down, large terrifying reptiles had descended from the sky, shooting terrifying torrents of flame from the mouths, transforming the unkindly woods into a solid glow of red. Her feet had taken her quickly away from the largest of the fire. However, where there were fewer flames, there were more of the beasts.

She held out her own end well enough. Her agility allowed her to move around the creatures. Earlier, she had the fore-sight to split her hair into two even bundles and coiled them around her arms. Years of hair-handling had given her the muscle bear the weight, and somehow she turned herself into some dual-lasso wielder.

Since she had been doing things with her hair all her life, it actually came really easily to her to latch onto tree trunks, or grapple on branches with the cords of hair. It became her main strategy to throw yank down a bunch of foliage over any charging beast, before hooking on a branch above and swinging herself somewhere else. It worked well enough, till one of the creatures came too close for comfort.

It was a very ugly creature, looking like something between a bulldog and a hummingbird - the latter description due to the creature's small wings and the way it used them to hover about. It had a large bludgeon of tail, which it often swung against her. It had been a very slow creature, but she couldn't call it harmless after she witnessed it gobble a mouthful of rock and spit a volley of lava, exploding a small copse with a single shot.

It seemed that she would surely end up either in the creature's huge jaws or its explosive fire but then, she discovered it got disorientated at repetitive sounds – she had found this out while slamming her frying pan against a thicket that happened to be in the way. With new found enthusiasm, she started rapping on the pan as she ran her way, leaving the hovering beast to be gurgling to itself with blurry dissatisfaction.

However, 'being confused' didn't equate to 'stop attacking'. It still blasted flaming lava all around her, sending trees toppling down one over another like dominoes. She had wound her loose coils of her golden hair more tightly around her arms as she fled into through the woods, hoping none would get caught in the vines and pines. While she was much faster than the creature, she still couldn't to outrun its field of damage.

As she slid down a rugged crag, she darted a glance behind again, catching a glimpse of the boulder-like creature zipping her way. She turned on her heel, ready to zoom off, but she found that she couldn't move her down, the horror she felt at the moment was indescribable.

There she was, in between a flaming forest and a blood-thirsty muttation, caught in a puddle of _quicksand_.

Squirming helplessly in her sinking boots, she turned her eyes upwards. The nearest branch was some distance away, but with seventy feet of her hair and almost perfect aim, she successfully slung the golden cord around a branch. Yanking herself out proved to a much greater challenge, especially since her hands were sweating with anxiety, and the sand started swimming around her knees, filling her boots.

The growls from the beasts were looming fast, so she shot the other coil of gold out, and it looped around another further branch. With the added grip, she grunted as she tore her body out of the sinking dirt. Tightening her grasp on her hair, she swung herself forward, smiling slightly as she landed back on the rocky-_oww!_

She stared down at her feet, and this time she sighed. Her bare feet, pinkish and raw after many out of days of being stuck in her boots, were now, well, _bare_.

A lava blast and crumbling tinder snapped her out of her dismay.

Scrambling over through the dirt ground, she gritted her teeth as leapt through the woods, forcibly forgetting the numerous scratches that now marked her soles.

She's should have guessed that it was all fruitless effort. The hovering beast that flew behind her was slow compared to the other fiery-breathers, but on the ground it was much quicker than she. With her pace only at slightly faster than a hobble, it was became horribly clear that she could not win by fleeing. All forestry in close proximity had been felled, and so had her options for escape. The truest roadblock came when she crashed into a pair of collapsed trees. She knew even before trying to climb over it that she hit the end of the road, leaving confrontation as the only option.

Catching a whiff of explosive gas in time, she ducked and rolled, shrieking as the logs behind her blew up into blazing splinters. One of the glowing splints fell on to her knee, causing her to cry out as it burned through the fabric and singed her thigh. Brushing it away, hissing as it touched her fingers, she couldn't help screaming again at the sight of the creature's magnificent yellow canines.

In a fleeting surge of bravado, she lifted the frying pan in her hand and shoved it as much as she could into the creatures mouth's. The beast seemed distressed, jerking its head away from her, shaking it furiously as it tried to understand what exactly was caught in it maw.

Taking advantage of the confusion, she squeezed herself passed the struggling beast, her feet scratching more bristles. Hopping slightly as she adjusted herself to the discomfort, she picked up speed when she heard a 'crunch' as the creature brought its teeth down onto...

Wait, the creature ate rocks, and after that, it shot _lava_.

So that must meant that _somehow _\- she didn't really want to think what kind of bodily functions allowed it - the creature must be able to regurgitate whatever it ate into its hot, melted form. And if the creature had to the jaw strength to chew up rocks, it could easily eat metal, which meant-

Her eyes widened in horror.

\- she had just _fed her predator its ammo._

By the time she spun herself around, the ugly floating beast had parted its maw again, an orange glow rising from the back its throat, turning into a bright, burning ball.

Instinct was the only thing that saved her life. Both her arms had already lifted themselves whip out both cords of hair, latching themselves on the highest branches of the still-standing trees. She was half-way in the air by the time the fireball reached her.

However, _reach her_ it did.

The fire smacked hard against her lower calves, and she felt a spike of fire and bone shoot up her spine. Rapunzel couldn't hold back the cry or the tears, but still she hardened herself, channeling her efforts into working her biceps instead of her burning feet, - or were her shins burned too? She couldn't tell, and perhaps it was best that she didn't yet.

Instead of dropping to her feet and running as she had done previously, she yanked harder onto her hair, shooting herself upward instead. Dizzily yet cautiously, she lowered herself onto a branch, but resting on her rear instead of her feet. Hurriedly coiling up both cords into her lap, she could her heart racing in between her gasps, as she gazed at the buzzing creature below.

The beast seemed displeased that its prey had gone missing, but it appeared as if it hadn't realized how that happened. After circling in the woods a few more times, it eventually abandoned the copse for the fiery excitement happening at the other end of the forest.

Checking above and below to find that it was clear, Rapunzel finally took in a deep breath. The adrenaline draining out of her system however reminded her too keenly that her entire lower limbs were in excruciating pain.

Wincing as she slowly leaned her back against the rough bark of the trunk, she first wound one coil of hair around the branch above her as security. Then, she pushed aside the large she lifted her legs up to trunk to rest. Both limbs smarted when she shifted them, and she could even feel a fracture in one of them. Grimly, she scooped up each leg, one at a time, to rest them on the bough, inhaling sharply each time she did. When it was done, she felt looking at the wounds alone was enough to kill her.

The lower half of her trousers were almost all gone, with only bit of burnt black fabric around the edges of her inflamed skin. Blisters were ridden into both shins,

which were both patchworks of red and pink. She almost choked on her saliva when she saw the charred flesh on her knees. She knew logically that it shouldn't hurt around that area - her nerves were supposed to frayed, literally, around that part, but knowing it was there somehow made her want to scream and cry. The impact of the blast had also shattered her left tibia – or at least, it felt that way – and her right femur was feeling distinctly painful, but she couldn't place why.

After taking stock of damage, she reclined on the trunk, forcing herself to take even breaths as her mind subconsciously reported to her the uneven stings travelling on across the burns. She considered wrapping them up, but everything she had was already dirty and would only serve to hasten other words, she couldn't do anything other than wait. Wait and pray.

She could feel a few tear tumbling from the corners of her eyes and she couldn't stop them, so she closed eyes and rested her head back. A gust of wind blew by, and she shivered, even though the wounded flesh was throbbing hotly under broken skin. Wrapping her arms tighter around her chest, something metal brush against the burn she had on her finger.

Reluctantly opening her eyes, she peered down at her coat sleeve. There hung the little jeweled sun brooch, still unbroken despite all that it had seen. Her trembling fingers unhooked it from the fabric, raising it her face. The moonlight catching on its perfectly-cut stones made it shine brightly, and she would have smiled if she didn't feel as if there weren't a million pins plunged in both her feet.

She gnawed on a chapped lip, gazing half-expectantly at the sky, her fingers fiddling with the brooch.

It was about two hours later when she stopped waiting.

Her wounds hadn't gotten any better. Instead, the burning sensation had rekindled, forcing her to reel backward and writhe each time it flared up again, clenching her fist tightly around the brooch. She could almost feel the fragments of her bones jabbing into her flesh from the inside out. She could have been weeping, but she couldn't really tell, because she was too busy screaming in her head, and hissing through her teeth.

But perhaps what struck the hardest was the sense of _betrayal_. _Where was he? What happened to the wonderful sponsors he had promised?_

Maybe he lied. Maybe he was just afraid of her, and nodded and smiled, and then took the exit the minute the opportunity was presented to him. It was just that…she had thought they had connected somehow. She was willing to bet her life on it – no, she _was_ betting her life on it.

But how many guys have she ever met in her life? How could she tell a liar from a good man? Could he - _would_ he give up on her? Given his track record as a mentor, she bitterly admitted that the answer was, despite what she'd liked to think, an overwhelming 'yes'. She hoped people thought her tears were just from agony of the body, not the disappointment swelling in her soul.

The brooch was really cutting into her palm, so she opened up her fist. She absently admired how well placed each jewel was, when her fingers unconsciously twisted on its little latch.

The panels on the brooch separated, and she found herself reading the words inscribed on them all over again. Though it felt like ages ago, she still remembered how her ally – no, her savior - had sung the exact words, and then how her outrageously long, golden hair had sudden caught light. It had been bizarre. Unexplainable. And it had cost the other girl her life.

She bowed her head at the thought, but ended up jerking it back when another splay of agony ran up her wounds. Staring at the disgusting mess that apparently was part of her, one of her hands ran up her forehead, where there had been a graze. But that was no longer there, and _way, way_ before its ordinary healing time.

She bit her lip again, but this time in thought rather than in anguish. Unlooping the cords of her hair around her arm, she slung it off her, wrapping gingerly around her seared wounds instead, ignoring the unpleasant throbbing she felt.

She had to admit it was an absurd notion, but her choices were running dry, and it couldn't hurt try, even if she ended up making a fool of herself to the Capitol. But if Eugene wasn't going to save her, she had to save herself. She had promised that she would try, and even to traitors, Rapunzel kept her promises.

Scanning around her, she decided there weren't any flying beasts nearby for now, and the surrounding foliage would be enough to cover _it_ up - '_it_' being...well, she wasn't actually sure herself.

Humming the little tune one last time for practice first, she then bent her head down as she read the words on the panels of the brooch, singing as she did, _"Flower, gleam and glow. Let your power shine..."_

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Merida felt like shaking her fists to the sky, but she was fortunately aware the sting that waited if she strained her left arm again.

By the time the rain dried it out, night had already fallen. Though the cracks of the tower walls, she had spied on her enemies, who had been seated comfortably by their cosy fire, while she had been shivering in her gloomy 'fortress', tying rags together for so long until she had earned callouses on both hands.

However, knotting had ended up being all for naught. In two words – _too short_.

There had been only so many rags she could rip off herself. A good deal came from her jacket – the same that she had turned into a cast - bt even after she had nicked off some of the ends of leggings, and even twining in some hair, her little escape rope was too short for _anything_. It was obviously nowhere near the length of tower's full height, and it wasn't even long enough to reach the other shorter tower.

At the bottom line, escape was _still_ impossible.

She cast the disappointing waste of fabric in a sodden corner as she stomped up and down the tower. It wasn't just out of anger, but survival too. The remaining damp had made it rather cold, but there was insufficient material to build a flame, and even if there were she would have. She didn't want her hunters have the slightest inkling of her activities, even if 'activities' was just shuddering under the crescent moon.

Speaking of which, the fire from the enemy camp was still glowing bright. Even at the distance, she could make out that most of the odd alliance had retired for the night, giving up on waiting for the death recap. Only one - the blonde bob told her it was Taffyta - kept watch, twirling her mace in her hands as she gazed out in the darkness.

A pinging sound above her caught Merida's attention, and she lifted her eyes toward the parachute floating down from the sky. Eagerly, she stretched her good hand towards it, sudden relief flooding into her heart. It seems that being an eleven-scorer had finally paid off.

The good spirits were dampened when she realized how small the container was. It couldn't be a rope, which disappointed her tremendously, but maybe it could be medicine for her wrist - though she was skeptical as to whether any applied creams could heal a near-fractured bone. Setting it down on the stone parapet, she twisted the knob of the container and allowed the lid to fly open.

It turned out to neither of her guesses. Instead, the 'gift' she received just made her want to yank her red curls off her head and screech like an enraged magpie. She almost felt like apologizing to her sponsors, considering how poorly their money had been spent.

Being born in district that specialized in electrical production, any other forms of artificial light was usually rather expensive and hence very rare. However, being _too_ born into a family of great affluence, she had been able afford 'toys' as a child, and playing with it had once been a great entertainment to her before she discovered the bow.

It was a _light stick_.

She groaned, disgust written all over her face. She was _cold_. She was _trapped_. She was _injured_. And the scaffy witch had the gall to send her a crummy _light stick_! Of all things she could have sent - a light stick! Why not just send cyanide and end her misery?_ Crivens! _

Peering around the container in hopes of finding something more useful, she uncovered only a thin slip of paper. Scraping it off the bottom of the box, she nipped it with her fingers, drawing it out. Unfolding it carefully, she read the words, and sighed.

_'TWO BEASTS IN A BUSH IS WORTH A TWIG IN HAND.'_

'Well, _that_'s informative,' she thought drily to herself, as she crushed the paper in a ball and tossed it off the tower. While she muttered disparaging remarks about her nutty mentor, she crouched down to examine the light stick more closely. It appeared to be clear liquid, so it probably turned either blue or purple when lit – which probably wouldn't change her life that much anyway. Out of boredom, and also frustration, she ended up binding the stick to the end of her little rag-rope, as if her hand weren't aching from doing that for the last two hours. It seemed fitting that two completely useless tools go together.

She had been wallowing so deeply in her frustrated helplessness that she had almost missed it.

_"Pssssst!"_

She frowned, standing up in confusion. Had she really heard that?

_"Pssssst!"_

Her eyes darted around, her curls brushing repeatedly over her shoulders as her head swung left and right. Walking over closer along the lookout walks, her brows creased as her bewilderment increased. As far as she could see, she was still all alone on the tower, with only the crescent moon for company.

"Down here!"

She lowered her head, peering down at the foot of the tower, where she saw rubble and ...nothing.

The voice sounded as if it spoke through biting teeth. "Not _that _down!"

She inclined her neck upwards instead, and when eyes rested on the tower across just her own – the same that she had hoped to escape to – where she finally found the owner of the voice.

It was the black-haired lass from District 11, the one that was called 'Van'. _Or _'Val'. _Or_ maybe even 'Penelope'. Merida couldn't really remember, because she was too busy being bewildered. What was the kid doing here in the castle ruins? Even more so, what was she doing skulking about the opposite lookout?

The shorter girl made a little huff that clearly meant _'Finally!' _Taking a quick glance at the campsite not too far away, she then removed something from under her coat. If it had been anyone else, Merida would have backed off and fled down the stairway immediately to take cover. But gut and logic both agreed that if Van – or Val - was planning to attack her here, it was way too much effort. So for once, Merida let her defenses down.

Fortunately, she had been right to trust, because under the silver light, she caught sight of the coils of twisted twine in the girl's hands. Van-Val untangled the rope in hand, hanging it off the tower parapet as she did. Merida watched in silence, and her heart sank when the dark-haired girl hit the end of the rope. It was obviously ten feet short of the length that the younger girl would need to climb down her tower if she did so by abseiling, and twenty feet short for Merida to do the same on her own.

Scaling the tower was certainly not what the lass had in mind, because she rapidly gathered up the rope again, back into a bundle in her arms. Merida half-thought the girl would abandon her after seeing how useless it all was. But again she was proven wrong,when Van-Val swung one of her arms back, pivoting her weight on her heel, before hurlling one end of the rope across the gap between their towers.

Merida's good hand shot up, catching the flaxen rope deftly. She glanced at the girl, who simply gave her a firm nod.

With the end of the cord in her hand, Merida sought out hold to tie it to, and eventually opted for one of the lower holes along barricade walls. Slotting it into the hole, then leaning over the wall to grab the end again, doubling back, she made a knot swiftly with a combination of teeth and fingers. Noting the rope had suddenly gone taunt against the parapet, she knew that the girl on the opposite tower had been doing exactly the same thing. Merida couldn't help the smile that spread across her face; they had both known what to do without even discussing.

The next step, of course, was crossing the gap. With an injured wrist, tightroping was out. Merida wouldn't be able to maintain a low centre of gravity if she couldn't spread both arms out. That meant she had to do it the slow way.

Ripping off part of her useless handmade rag rope, she bundled up her arrows, before strapping them tight in the quiver so that they wouldn't fall out. Her make-shift cast had to be removed before she could swing the quiver strap across her torso. Her bow she slung up her good arm. Staring at the torn remains of her jacket, she decided to just tie it around her waist for now. Just in case her good hand slipped up, she could have the life-saving, albeit extremely painful, option of using her broken-wrist hand to cling to the rope. The reminder of the rag rope, with the light stick, was wound loosely around her waist too. They might come in handy someday.

Finally, she was ready. She heaved herself up the parapet, sitting herself up such that her legs dangled against the wall. At the sight of how far the ground was below, she drew in a quick breath. She was about to sling herself up when she heard Van-Val hiss at her again. "Psst!"

She looked up at the girl, who was pointing at the castle courtyard. Following the finger, she went rigid in her seat when she realized that Taffyta's gaze was currently in their direction. Fortunately, the girl hadn't seemed to have seen the rope connecting the taller and shorter towers, or even noticed the red-haired girl seated on the lookout walls. Merida thanked whatever mercies that convinced the Gamemakers to put a crescent moon up tonight, especially since there was a full one just a day ago.

Taffyta eventually returned to tending her fire, her blonde head turned downwards. Merida took that as her cue to make her move.

Sliding herself closer to where the rope was bound, she shot a grim look at the other girl, who returned a supportive nod. Wiping the palm of her against her ripped jacket, bringing her broken wrist closer to her chest, she peered briefly down at the circular pin on her collar.

_Courage_. It told her. The Dunbroch's were brave people. She breathed in, and breathed out.

Slipping one of her leg under the rope, she hooked both her ankles over the cord, locking them tightly together. Sucking in a breath, puffing out her cheeks as she did, she grabbed onto the rope with her good hand just as she tossed herself off the parapet.

The first seconds were the determinants. If the knots on either end decided to give way now, she would find herself smashed into the stone walls of either tower. Worse, if both ends gave way … it was a short, painful, and hopefully fatal drop then.

But both knots held up, and Merida sighed in relief. A quick check on the campsite told her that the beginning of her escape had yet to be discovered, and for first time in tonight she felt as if she stood a chance at survival, even if only for another day at most.

Since her tower was taller than Van-Val's, the rope was sloped at a downward incline, and she could slowly slide herself down. If she had both arms, she could do this must faster, but not everything could be perfect after all.

She was about halfway across when she heard scuffling against debris below her, followed by a deep throaty exhales and heavy sniffing. The hairs around her arm bristled and she paused her crawl. Cautiously and reluctantly, she tipped her head back to find out what had caused the commotion.

Merida considered herself quite an experience hunter and in the outskirts of District 5 she had seen many terrifying animals, but none as horrible or as grand as this beast.

It was a bear, yet the name alone felt too small to describe it. It wore a coat the shade of night, but its furs were ruffled and torn, instead of glossy and sleek as one would expect from a majestic creature. Dozens of broken arrows and spears protruding from it, adorned like badges of carnality and destruction. Yet beyond its massive, haggard form, or the huge claws that lined is great paws, it was its eyes that Merida found the most intriguing and petrifying. One was dead; a wound had forced it shut, turning it into reddened scar. But the other eye was deep yellow, glowing even in the darkness, its deadly gaze seeming to penetrate straight into her soul.

"Candy and Crispy. We're stew," the kid in the other tower muttered, aghast. Merida was about to voice her agreement, but cocking her head upwards, she realized that the District 11 girl was referring to something else. Tracing the girl's line of vision once again, the redhead swore under her breath when she registered the change of events.

She supposed that after the creature's rather noisy arrival, it was inevitable that the watcher of hunting party would notice that something wasn't right. Taffyta was speaking rather quickly to her bleary-eyed male companions, whose movements suddenly hastened when the blonde had finished her piece.

"Move. _Now,_" Van-Val ordered, not bothering to keep her voice down this time. Sneaking about had lost its merits.

Still, Merida hesitated as she squinted at the great black creature below then. It must have caught her scent, because it = halted in it tracks. Rising up, resting on it hind legs, Merida was amazed at how tall it was. Craning it neck upward, it sniffed at her suspiciously, low rumbles emanating from its throat. Even though she knew that there was almost a good fifteen feet separating them, she couldn't help slinking away -which was rather difficult on to do while hanging off a swinging cord of flax.

"They hit the bottom floor, they'll get us in the sack. Get your butt down here!" Van-Val was almost begging.

Merida knew that she only need to slither down a little more distance and her feet would reach the walls surrounding the lower tower's lookout post, but something was holding her back. Deep in the recesses of her mind, the message from the crazy hag emerged.

_'TWO BEASTS IN A BUSH IS WORTH A TWIG IN HAND.'_

"Red-stuff! Are you going to get off that rope or not?" The irritation in the other girl's tone barely masked her alarm. Climbing out of the pit would not be as quick as dropping in, but the trio of tributes would get out at some point, and Merida understood the need for urgency. But the message kept sounding alarm bells in her mind.

_'TWO BEASTS IN A BUSH IS WORTH A TWIG IN HAND.'_

Alright, hypothetically - and only hypothetically, if the witch had known the Arena events today, maybe - and only _maybe_ \- she had decided to drop something inside to help, and that would be the light stick. But why a _light stick_?

"Frizzles! Are you getting off or not?"

The gears in Merida's mind were whirring rapidly, drowning out the vexed cry from Van-Val, or the furious, anxious shouts of the marching tributes.

_'TWO BEASTS IN A BUSH IS WORTH A TWIG IN HAND.'_

Wait... a twig was a stick, wasn't it? Well, perhaps a _wooden _stick, but Merida couldn't afford to be fussy in riddle-solving now.

So assuming that the twig was referring the light stick, then what were the two beasts? The bear and the team of tributes. Okay, but _then _what?

"Gah! Look, I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer. You're on your own here." The scampering of little feet against cobbled stone told her that the girl had fled down the tower. Merida felt a pang of disappointment, and perhaps a little hurt, but she knew that ultimately the girl was most concerned with her own survival, and couldn't wait for idiots who decided to ponder a conundrum while situated thirty-five from the air.

'TWO BEASTS IN A BUSH IS WORTH A TWIG IN HAND.'

It was a corrupted version of the old saying - what was it? _'A bird in hand is worth two in a bush.' _It was about an exchange - a poor exchange; basically, it meant 'keep the bird, don't get the 'two'. Except that the message had it sort of swapped around, sort of like 'get the two beasts in a bush, don't keep the stick'. But how were they connected?

A few guesses came to mind as Merida pondered harder. As a hunter, she knew that some animals were attracted to flashing lights, usually felines. Not there were any cats around here, but could it be that...

_Beasts, bush, twig, hand_ \- it suddenly all clicked together. She knew exactly what the old witch wanted her to do.

Twisted her ankles more tightly together, her hand released her grip on the rope. Her whole body immediately straightened out vertically, with only her locked ankles keeping from plummeting down. Below, she could see that the tributes had already got themselves out of the pit, and heading towards the entrance of the tower. They hadn't seen the bear yet - its black fur blended it well in the shadows. The little lass from District 11 was nowhere in sight, but Merida knew she must be still hiding in the ruins, since she couldn't leave the castle ruins if she couldn't past the castle courtyard. Merida quickly used her good arm to unwrap the hand-made rag rope from her waist, paying no heed to the stress gravity added to her swinging injured wrist.

The bear seemed to have lost in curiosity in her, because it had dropped back on its haunches, turning it hunched form around, taking large strides away from the debris, as if seeking to strut off the castle ruins. Desperately, she tore the rag rope off, gasping in triumph when it came loose completely. Abandoning thoughts of pain, she used both hands to find the light stick - still attached to the rope, thankfully - and broke it in her palm. An ethereal blue glow was produced as the chemicals mixed together.

Grappling onto the rag rope, she quickly began to lowering the glowing stick down. She knew she must appear crazy - to Van-Val, to the pursuing hunters, to the Capitol audience. Even she knew she was taking huge risk here, but for once, she decided to trust that the crazy hag was _crazy_, not stupid.

She had reached the end of the rag-rope as the tributes appeared at the feet of the tower. They still hadn't spotted the retreating beast, nor had they started climbing the tower. They were watching her, yelling mocking questions, laughing and pointing at her. They must have thought she was stuck mid-air, because they didn't seem particularly anxious about tearing her off. They were in false environment of safety, and that worked perfectly for what the District 5 girl had in mind.

"Oh. My. Gosh. What _are_ you doing?" Taffyta's scornful whine made her grate her molars together. Merida vaguely noted that Stabbington had broken in guffaws, leering at her as he swung his blade over his shoulder.

She considered sending an insult their way, but she decided that there were better ways to send a message. Holding the end of the rag rope with her good hand, she winced slightly as she brought the injured wrist toward her face, placing two fingers in her mouth and letting out a sharp whistle. The watching tributes didn't think anything of her behavior, because they were too focused on deriding her.

"_Heeheehee_. You can't win this one, Five." There was a high-pitched chortle from a unfortunately familiar nasal voice. "Your life's hanging on the thread. _Heeheehee!_ Hanging on a thread? Get it? _Hahaha_..." The boy made noises of clearing his throat, his demeanor from whimsical slipping back into a threatening one again. "I'm giving you one, and _only_ one, chance to join us again. Are you in, or not?"

Merida ignored him completely, her eyes fixed on the gigantic black-furred beast – her true target. As she had hoped, it stiffened, whipping its humongous form around just to face her again. She swung the glow stick forward towards it, praying that this would work.

The old witch was right after all, because when the yellow eye caught sight of the glowing blue light, the bear came bounding back eagerly - _violently_, growling and snapping as it did. It was leaping on its hind paws, scrapping upwards as it extended it colossal paws towards the light stick, trying to reach for it. Merida had to jerk up the rope up a few times to make sure it didn't catch the stick by accident.

The sudden and certainly unexpected entrance of the gigantic creature left the trio of tributes agape in petrified chagrin. A small smirk appeared on Merida's lips when she saw their expressions, though at the same time she felt a tingling chill run up her spine - or was it down? She had been suspended upside-down for too long, it seemed.

Pressing her lips together, she slowly swung the light stick back and forth, allowing it pick up speed as the pendulous stick gained momentum. Just as the stick was almost near enough for the bear to finally grab it, she changed direction again instead, earning a disgruntled snarl from the beast as its single yellow eye continued to follow the light. With all the might she had, she tossed the light stick away from the bear, letting the rag-rope slip from her hand, falling down and down...

... till rope latched itself onto the ringleader of the still frozen trio. Wrapping itself around the pale short boy's small form, blue light was still glowing strong.

Merida grinned in triumph. _Bulls-eye._

The bear roared with renewed fury, glaring at the trio of tributes, its deathly stared fixed on the one he presumed had stolen his precious light. As if suddenly finding their senses again, the hunters uprooted themselves, spinning about and fleeing. Releasing a mighty rumble to the sky, the beast fell back to the haunches, launching itself in pursuit of the fleeing tributes.

Her mission accomplished, Merida found the will to escape again. Arching herself forward, she grabbed hold of the rope once again, this time with both hands. Hurried, she scampered down, not stopping till her boots hit the safety of the stone parapet. She threw herself forward, crashing onto the cobbled platform of the lookout. Her arm screamed, but the rush of adrenaline replaced the ache with excitement instead.

In seconds she was back on her feet, scrambling down the tower floor, her heart racing while she listened the savage roars, and the fearful screams. Nearing the exit of the tower, she wrestled the bow off her body, her right arm immediately whipping back and tugging out an arrow. Spikes shooting up her left wrist warned her against overworking her arm, but restraint had to be put aside for survival.

Darting back outside, her feet slapping against the cobble and moss, she was just in time to see Turbo wrench the rag rope of his self, and casting it around his district mate just as the bear charged towards them.

The blonde girl cried out in consternation, but the boy simply disregarded it. "Sorry, old girl. But better you than -" he pushed her hard, causing her to topple back into the pit in the courtyard, "meeeeee-_heeheehee!"_

Taffyta screamed as she fell back, and as the boy predicted, the bear went after her instead of himself. Cackling heartily to himself, he zipped away, joining Stabbinton in clambering away from the scene, not seeing at all the expression of complete revulsion on his remaining ally's face.

Merida was feeling pretty sickened herself. Hearing Taffyta's pleas for mercy against the thunderous thrashing of the bear, the tightening of her jaw was the only thing keeping her from throwing up.

In the periphery of her vision, she saw a small figure emerge from behind a pile of rocks across the courtyard. Unsurprisingly, it was the lass from District 11. The black-haired girl shot one look at the bear in the pit before she was speeding tall boulder that lined around it, carefully leaping through the gaps in stone. She didn't seem to be aware of Merida watching her by the tower exit, stunned and shocked.

Then suddenly, the screaming stopped, and there was a cannon shot, followed by a feral howl to the sky.

Van-Val was halfway across when she suddenly slipped on the still damp stone slabs. The kid was quick enough to keep herself from tumbling into the pit, but the smack of her body against the water received the unwanted attentions of the bear. Even at the distance, Merida gagged at the sight of the wet red stains tangled in the fur surrounding its snout, even as it held the bloodied glowing stick in its maw.

The little lass gave a little yelp as she sprung to her feet, hurtling forward. The creature released the light stick from its jaw, snorting with crazed fury. Its yellow eye now fixed on a new target, a low grumble vibrating from the recesses of his maw escalated into a full blown roar as he clawed at Van-Val. The little girl shrieked, ducking in time before continuing on her escape, panting heavily as she looked over her shoulder. The bear snapped it jaws at her in resentment, scratching against the stone parapets. Coiling itself back for a moment, it threw its enormous body forward, vaulting over the walls, colliding into one of the fortress walls as it did, turning it into a heap of rubble. The beast shook the pebble off its coat hastily, veering itself about as it galloped towards its new victim.

It was then that Merida could feel her feet again. Launching herself forward, she dashed past the castle courtyard, racing and leaping over the ledges, heading down the slope that she knew would take her back to Autumn's forest. Her arrow immediately fitted itself on the bow, even though the muscle in her wrist protested. On other route, she spotted the black-haired girl skittering over the gravel too, drawing in sharp breaths as she bolted from the great, grizzly creature that pursuing them.

At the mid-slope, Merida noted that District 11 girl had tripped again, and a surge of incredulity ran through her brain when she realized the lass wasn't moving from her spot. Van-Val slowly picked herself from the heap of moss debris, but any anxiety she had displayed earlier on had suddenly faded away, replaced by a blank, almost curious visage. The girl was blinking, staring into space, abruptly yet clearly unaware that of the gruesome hulking mass that was tearing behind her.

Involuntarily skidding herself to a halt, Merida whipped around and yelled to the girl, "Lass! C'mon!"

The girl didn't respond, her jaw hanging open as if she wanted to say something, while her eyes simply shifting another direction, with no sign of understanding . Merida strangely recognized seeing those type of expressions before on Wee Dingwall's face. He had pulled a good many of them every time he had blanked out into his own world, but she had always assumed it was because he was simple or something. Yet even Wee Dingwall wouldn't be dumb enough to be loitering absently in the middle of a chase scene, and Van-Val was a smart kid. No, there was something _severely_ wrong.

"Lass! What's the matter?" she shouted at the vacant-faced girl, who was clenching and unclenching her fist. The beast was getting dangerously close to the girl, but the girl stood firmly fixed to the ground.

"Van!" Merida screeched, hoping that maybe that part of the name was right. Her own feet were demanding to run, and run _now_. Leave the unresponsive girl behind. After all, the girl had been going to leave her in the tower anyway.

But Merida was not the type that would be petty to hold something like that against a kid, any kid. And a Dunbroch refused to cower at that this kind of thing.

The bow had been stretched back before she knew what her hands were doing, her right palm brushing against her cheek as she took aim. The beast was almost right behind the inanimate body of the girl. In less than a second, the arrow had left Merida's hands, and plunged straight into the beast's dead eye.

The beast howled in agony, whipping it neck back for a brief moment. Somehow, that snapped the younger girl back into her senses. The kid screamed when she suddenly registered how close the creature was to her, and proceeded to widen that gap by hastening her pace.

Merida's left arm was biting into her muscles aggressively, berating her for her careless treatment of it, but she disregarded it as she notched another arrow. But when she was about to launch it into the creatures' skull again, the sting in her left arm suddenly flared up, causing her to misfire, hitting the creature's abdomen instead. The arrow bounced off the beast's hide, but it was sufficient to distract it while Van-Val scurried away. The beast grunted in annoyance, glaring vengefully at the girl with a massive mop of red curls.

Merida gulped as she returned the stare. The tingling sensation dancing on her spine came back, and a sudden chill shook her so much that her next arrow missed the creature completely. The beast gnashed it teeth, baring its fangs as bounded above the stones, its sights set on its new prey.

It was the District 5 girl's turn to run. Hopping over the ledges, she sped downwards, letting gravity drag her down with it. The fog that she had encountered when she first entered the castle ground surrounded her once again, but it was not enough to separate her from the raving, growling bear at her heels. She loaded another arrow and shot randomly at the black beast, but the creature shrugged it off as if they were but flies.

Just as she zoomed down towards the monolithic gateway that marked the end of the castle and the beginning of the forest, an idea struck her.

Running towards the gateway, she abruptly stopped at its mouth, spinning around. Raising another arrow, she had to grit her teeth to fight off both the pain in her arm and the fear in her mind, shouting from the bottom of her lungs, "HEY, DEMON-BEAR!"

The creature immediately turned its head towards her, snarling ferociously. Steelly herself, she fired, and struck true. The bear's skull sprouted another arrow, and it roared in hysterical rage, rushing forward, tearing against its own teeth.

Merida held her ground, though she yearned to flee. She shot another arrow, not caring if she didn't manage to hit the eye again. She just needed to infuriate it enough such that it wouldn't considered running around the gateway.

'_Courage_', she told herself, even as she watched the beast advancing rapidly, emitting blood-curdling sounds through its crooked and dripping jaws.

Just as the beast made its final pounce towards her, Merida edged herself under the gateway. The creature, blinded by its insanity, tried to follow but only succeeded in ramming itself into the monolith groaned, smattering into pieces over the beast, and the creature howled, angered and hurt, but trapped. For now.

Merida darted out of the way just the ceiling above her crumbled. But she wasn't quick enough to escape the avalanche of rocks that came rolling after her. One of the toppling stones hit her in the back, thrusting her down the slope, causing her to lose her balance all together. Before she knew it, she was tumbling down on her side, hugging her bow protectively, her arm stinging more than ever. She vaguely registered slapping her head against something, then the light all went out.

* * *

**S/N:**

**The dragon that Rapunzel fought was a Gronckle, the one that looks like a flying bulldog-and-hippo-hybrid. Acc. the film, noise throws a dragon's aim off, hence when Rapunzel rapped her frying pan, the Gronckle got dizzy.**

**So... this is what happens when you replace tracker-jackers with Mor'du… Anyone spotted the foreshadowing of the Mor'du in the previous chappie? It was pretty obvious. At least to me it was…**

**The idea of the Mor'du being attracted to blue lights came from the scene in **_**Brave**_** when Elinor was chasing Will-o-wisps blindly in her bear form, and almost hurting Merida. Yes, the blue light stick shall be the only Will-o-wisp cameo. Haha.**

**A little behind the scenes: I had to do some serious math before imputing the values in Merida's POV. (If you hate math, just ignore this. It's a bit hard to understand without diagrams anyway.)**

**Merida's tower was 40 ft, and Van's 30ft. So I calculated the approximately minimum of Van's rope had to be 20ft long, if it was going to be long enough for Merida to cross, but too short for her to climb down directly (jumping at 20ft is like jumping from the third floor - you will hurt something . And hence the angle of elevation from Van's lookout to Merida's is 30 degrees, which is actually pretty steep. I justify that she doesn't slid down as fast as she could have because she's only using one hand.**

**At exactly halfway between the two towers (at 8.65ft horizontal distance) , Merida would be hanging off around 35ft from the ground. The Mordu, according to disney wiki, is 15 ft tall. Googling the average height of medieval woman got me 5ft, which I decided would be Merida's height. Assuming Merida arm length is negligible, meaning that the vertical gap between Merida and the bear is 20ft. Merida's self-made rag-rope has to be shorter than Vanellope's , but long enough to be near the bear's when its at full height. I decided to approximate Merida's rag-rope to be around 15 ft at most, and that possibility of the Mordu being almost actually be able to reach it being shall be pinned down to the creature being able to leap high. This is what you call a long-stretch. Really. **

**The things I do for my stories...**

**Up Next: Something nice and hopefully calm, featuring Hiccup and Merida, I think. I need a break from action. I will post a death recap and survivor's list then, since it's a new days in the Arena etc.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**This is the longest chapter I've ever written. Maybe if I decided to write shorter ones, I could update faster. Maybe.**

**So, 'sup guys! This story is almost reaching 150 reviews! Wooohooo! I just really want to thank you guys for kind words, your support, your questions and criticisms! They do spur me on in writing this.**

**A way to uncreative girl: Wow. Thanks for the love. (That's sarcastic).**

**Nightingale82: Glad you like the District 12 (it was the highlight of that chapter). I offer no explanations, but it's sharp of you to note that Pitch is indeed up to something. What happened to Hiccup would be explained soon, and it's not that mysterious actually. Well, maybe. Yay! One person that likes my miserable cover!**

**countrygal15: I was never an especial fan of Kristanna, but somehow I like writing about their quirky relationship, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Yep, Hans is very much alive - he's too important to die yet. I mean, he and Elsa are still posing as a thing, so... Can't tell you about the bands, but Hiccup and Toothless bits should come in the next few chapters. Um, sorry, but I don't get the ice-cream comment...**

**WarriorQueen 14: I know right? Even though the first person POVs of THG books were good in showing Katniss thoughts, what happened outside the Arena was always by guessing. No fun. Anyways, these won't be the last out of Arena POVs. Stay tuned for others!**

**SmilingStarcat: The issue of Hiccup's 'disappearance' would be further explained in the next chapter, but only much much later in the end will everything finally sense. (A little hint of how the disappearances are possible is actually somewhere in chap 17, if I'm not wrong.)****  
****Thanks for checking out the cards. I'm a sucker for rosemaling too, but I have to like Rapunzel's sun card, simply because I put the most effort in that one. Huh. No probs on the armband thing. It's easy to forget when my chapters are so spread out, update-wise.**

**EuphoricalMusicalTieDyeRainbow: Getting logged out of FF account? Just experienced that lately, and it sucks! Fishermen's wive? Well since they're in district 12, they're more like ...coalminers' wives. That isn't much difference, is it? Glad you like that the Anna and Kristoff parts! Yay firebreathers!**

**StarRunner1: Lol! Darth Vader and Pitch actually do have a lot in common. I mean, they wield a whole bunch of powers, and they have tragic backstories and angry children (acc. ROTG books), except that Darth Vader is the all powerful bootlicker of the Emperor, and Pitch is...the Boogeyman, who wants to join the popular kids...****  
****How I get ideas:****  
****Me1: Let's right a THG ROTBTFD crossover with everything I've ever wanted in it!****  
****Me2/3: Yeah!****  
****Me2: Let's do research on the films, original material, and useless behind-the-scene stuff!****  
****Me3: Let's go read random science stuff, like explosions and infection and ...Superhero comics!****  
****(Months of plot writing later)****  
****Me1: There is no way I can squeeze all these details in like thirty chapters!****  
****Me2: But don't you want to make sure that we stay as faithful to the movies as possible?****  
****Me3: But keep the angst,suspense, romance and action?****  
****Me2&amp;3: And complicated subplots and semi-canonical backstories?****  
****Me1: (grudgingly starts typing) And this is why nothing gets done. Goodbye grammar, hello typos and convoluted storytelling.****  
****My 'sad' life, but I enjoy it.**

**Iheartjelsaandunicorns: Thanks. I like this fanfiction too. I'll try to update as soon as I can, but life...yeah. But thanks for reviewing!**

**Awsomaniatica: Glad you enjoyed the POV from 12 - man I wish they had more of Gale's in the books, and even the movie. What happened to Hiccup is actually quite simple, and it will explained soon, but it does have impact on the story later. Hiro and Hiccup meeting in the Arena will be one of the pivotal moments/clashes in the story (I think it will be, at least), matched only by ... oops, almost spoiler.**

**Have a great week guys! So long! I need to do my philosophy now….**

**Review! Critique! Ask questions!**


	25. Chapter 24: Utter Disregard for Hygiene

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 24: Utter Disregard for Hygiene and its Consequences

* * *

**Capitol - Game Centre**

"...A blind-spot?"

"Yes, sir. He'd entered a blind-spot."

The Head Gamemakers had to muse over this a while. So far, their little slip up hadn't been discovered yet, for namely two reasons: they had been screening other tributes at the point of time the District 2 boy had disappeared, and nobody was that interested in watching the scrawny boy running around - unless he was being chased by dragons, because that was _really _quite hilarious.

It wasn't that Pitch was feared of what the boy might do. Blind-spot or not, the boy was still trapped in the Arena. No, it was having an unmonitored tribute in a live Arena that was what's unacceptable.

"We've tried breaking into the code, sir, but it's impossible. The firewall is impenetrable."

"It's a blind-spot, idiot," Pitch answered crisply, hunching forward as he pressed his fingers together. "It's built that way."

Blind-spots. Every Arena had them. Their existence has always been unknown to the public, their locations known to the Gamemakers, and the happenings within them always a mystery to all.

All Arenas have also been huge energy-leeches, hence there has always been the risk that overpower would short-circuit the connection between the Game Control centre and the Arena instead. That would indeed being very distressing to Gamemakers, who rather enjoyed lording over the tributes like gods and hated to have their little fun disrupted.

One of the oldest counter-protocols against there had been blind-spots. Designed to be hidden from the Panem audience and inaccessible to tributes, they had been areas within the Arena that held mini-control centers. These controls had been directly connected to the Arena, unlike the Game Centre which did game-manipulation from afar. It had required a Gamemaker to enter the Arena with extremely discretion, not die, find the blind-spot, enter it, then do whatever he needed to do there.

And before you ask, _no_. There were no toilet facilities available inside.

The greatest drawback was that blind-spots had to be camera-blind, even to the Game Centre. This had been to prevent the tragic case of an errant Gamemaker flashing any footage of the blind-spot activty on the national television, and displaying to Panem the embarrassing compromises the Capitol had to make for its imperfect technology.

However, due to this particular 'problem', blind-spots eventually became hot spots for easy homicide. You see, the Hunger Games were very much a political mechanism, and those who ran it were persons of huge influence. Thus, it had not been uncommon that one or two Gamemakers would claim a small error in the connection, send a fellow colleague down into the Arena to investigate it, lead him to a particular blindspot, only for that colleague to never return. Then when the whole Games had ended and the blindspots could be surveyed, the body of the Gamemakers would then be found, with autopsy reports varying between '_mauled by malfunctioning muttation that somehow got in_', '_asphyxiation due to insufficient oxygen supply_', and a great many 'innocuous' reasons for death. After all, blind-spots were never meant for long-term habitation.

Eventually sometime during his reign of terror, Pitch had done away the use of blind-spots all together. But only after all of his own rivals were six feet under.

That being said, areas allocated for blind-spots didn't disappear. Gamemakers were often creative persons, but not more creative then they needed to be. Being Capitol-born meant being extravagance, and extravagance meant laziness, and laziness meant an absolute disregard for the economic principle of effective resource allocation. In other words, it never occurred to them that there was a need to stop allocating areas for the blind-spots, even if they were nothing but hollow holes in the middle of Arena. Tributes couldn't access them, Gamemakers weren't allowed to go into the Arena anymore, and none of the audience, or _anyone_ at all as a matter of fact, could see them. The Gamemakers just shrugged it off, and followed the traditional template of the Arena format each time they keyed in the codes for each new design.

Apparently, it had to come back to bite them at some point of time.

"But how on Earth did he get in?" Pitch brooded, more to himself than the Gamemaker before him. The matter had to be kept so heavily under wraps that the discussion now took place in his private office. And the Head Gamemaker _never_ left the Game Control during live Game-time.

The man hesitated. "We...we don't actually know."

"What do you mean 'we don't'? We've got him recorded till the time he went in, don't we?"

"Yes, sir, but...but it-"

His patience was wearing thinner by the second. "_What_ now?"

"-the videos are corrupted sir. We're still trying to repair-"

"You insufferable _fools_!" Pitch yelled, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The man wisely said nothing, though he did wince visibly. Releasing the poor Gamemaker, Pitch started pacing around the office, spluttering in rage.

After a terrifying few minutes for the unfortunate surbordinate, the pale man eventually cooled off as he contemplated his counter moves. "Ah well," he slipped back into his bored drawl. "Blind-spots aren't designed for long-term habitation. He can't stay in there forever."

Turning to the Gamemaker, he said in a deceivingly mild tone, "I don't need to emphasise how your life depends on your silence, do I? Because the President won't take my life, but I have no qualms about giving up yours."

The Gamemaker stutterd some confirmation.

"Good." Practically punching the open button on the door, Pitch stormed out of the office, earning a sigh of relief from the heavily perspiring programmer.

As he entered back to survey the circle of the blue, most Gamemakers were wise enough to avoid him. The emphasis on '_most_'.

"Sir, a sponsor gift came in for number ten. Again. I'm not sure if this qualifies, but you said that you wanted to see the gift if they were-"

"Just pass it!" Pitch barked, roughly shoving the Gamemaker out of the way. She stumbled back a little, but said nothing as she watched her fuming boss make his way back to his own dashboard in the Control centre. Grimly, he began delving into the virtual records, a dark visage twisting his face as he tried to trace the boy to the time of his disappearance into ... wherever it was.

He hated it when people tampered with his Games. Especially if that person was an artless, albeit intelligent, walking skeleton.

"What are you doing in there, Haddock?" The Head Gamemaker murmured, leaning back into his chair as he stared at the flickering, unresponsive screen.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

Hiccup suddenly jerked awake when he felt something cool and slimy run up his limb.

It wasn't the first time had he had been rudely forced back into consciousness since entering the cove. The first time he remembered waking up that night was when the skies were suddenly covered with dragons, flapping their marvellous wings as they swept overhead, but none entered his haven, for which he had been grateful for but couldn't comprehend.

The second time was when the sky had turned dark and all he had heard was the chorus of the Panem Anthem, and he vaguely recalled experiencing a sinking feeling when he had noted that the only tribute reported dead for the day had been the District 6. He wouldn't wish ill of anyone if he could, but more tributes in the field meant that there were more people he might have to kill, and everyone knew how well that was going to work out. But at least that meant Astrid was still alive - if that was a good thing. And Hiro - well, _ditto_.

He found himself lying on a comfortable bed of grass - soft and sweet-smelling, which was rather strange. Most of the landscapes he had observed in the Summer Quarter had been rocky, thorny and dry, and this little patch that he was sprawled in was ... let's just say after all he had been through, it felt like a little bit of heaven.

He would have been perfectly content to be glued to the ground and staring at the obnoxiously blue sky. If a dark shadow hadn't fallen over him and the icky, slimy sensation up his calf hadn't returned.

Craning his head forward and peering through half-closed lids, his entire body tensed at the sight before him. It was unmistakable that the black creature at his feet was the very same dragon that he had shot down and freed, except that creature wasn't baring his teeth at him or screeching in his ear. No, the beast was actually licking the burns along his uncovered shin.

Hiccup's first instinct was to scream and flee, but he didn't. One, he was at the mercy of this huge - okay, it wasn't as if this reptile was as big as the Monstrous Nightmare or the Zippleback, but still bigger than him - fire-breathing muttation that should have been programmed to kill him, but hadn't, for reasons unknown. Two, the creature wasn't being particularly aggressive as it coated his reddened sores with its saliva. As a matter of fact, observing it reminded Hiccup of the gentleness of a mother dog washing her pups.

He didn't dare move a muscle, fearful that any sudden action might snap the creature out of its seemingly placid attitude, so he satisfied himself by inspecting it as it continued to systematically drool over both of the scratched limbs. Leaning forward a little, Hiccup couldn't help noticing the lack of white in its maw. Subconsciously slipping back into his empirical brain, he murmured to himself, "Toothless, huh? Funny, I could have sworn you had-"

He must have said it louder than he thought, because the dragon's ear flaps twitched the moment the words left his mouth. The beast recoiled immediately, rising to on all four paws and spreading out its bat-like wings to make itself seem bigger - which really worked, since the auburn-headed boy was properly scared. Hiccup jerked back when he saw a set of canines snap out from the previously bare gums of the dragon's maw, a low growl rose from the back of its throat.

"-teeth."

The thin slits in those deep green eyes narrowing on him once again. Grunting scornfully at puny boy, it did one-eighty and gliding across the lake in the cove, landing rather clumsily on the shore opposite.

The bewildered boy was tempted to just sit around and try to comprehend what just happened, but the jab coming from the thorax reminded him to address the necessities. Besides, he could probably do with a bath - who knows how much slobber the dragon had been slapped on him since he'd slept? He kept getting this weird tingling sensation under his skin when at the mere thought of the amount of digestive fluid that lined both upper and lower appendages.

Picking his slobber-drenched self, he headed towards the lake first. Just as he had recalled during the tumbling-off-cliff-and-almost-drowning incident yesterday, the lake water was fresh, though he could taste lots of lime slaked in it. Nonetheless, a thirsty boy was not a fussy boy.

The dragon took no interest in his drinking, but when Hiccup e was about to dip his saliva-covered arms in water, the abruptly abruptly jumped to its feet before it zooming back to his side of the lake. Almost pouncing at the boy, it shook its head aggressively at the lake and growled.

Immediately, Hiccup withdrew his hands from the lake, raising them in surrender. The dragon didn't think much of human signs, but at least it stopped snapping at him. It departed, roughly bumping into a covewall, and snarled disgruntledly as it went its way..

Some decidedly curious part deep in the recesses of the boy's mind that suffered severe priority mismanagement was screaming to him, '_Why is it acting this way? Could it be it hates water?' _

As if to dispel this notion, the dragon itself went the edge of the lake before ducking its head into it.

_'Okay, it doesn't hate water.' _His observation brain noted matter-of-factly. _'Maybe it just doesn't want you to wash off it spit.'_

'_Are you kidding?' _The other voice in Hiccup's head exclaimed. '_You want me to go around the rest of my day coated head to toe in gross and fish-smelling goo?'_

'_Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we actually wanted to risk incurring the wrath of a- wait, fish?' _

Hiccup peered at the dragon crouching by shore, staring at the swimming fish. Once or twice, it unconsciously stuck its tongue towards the lake in such a manner that it almost looked like lip-licking. It dunked its already wet head in the water, hissing in distress when it resurfaced once more.

The dragon ate _fish_.

The revelation could seem but a trifle. However, when you're in a game that promises up you almost certain death, and you discovered a possible blood-thirsty carnivore that happened to be stuck with you an enclosed area actually might prefer eating _fish_ to eating_ you_, well, you had to feel slightly better.

The dragon made low grunt, blowing a puff of hot air through its nostrils before stomping away in frustration, swishing its tail as it disdainfully stalked off to another part of the cove.

_Its tail_... Hiccup couldn't help thinking it was rather odd. It was long and narrow compared to it much wider body, with only two kite-like tail-fins attached to it end. What was odd was that one tail fin had holes in it, a feature not shared by its other whole tail fin.

The dragon paused its pouting march to snap at one of the cove walls, glaring darkly upwards and then moving over to a patch of grass by a crag. Parting its maw, it released a spray of purplish-flame, drawing a circle of flame around itself till the green turned to as. Settling itself down in the charred pit, it curled itself up, folding back its wings and resting its head on his front paws.

Hiccup couldn't help but catch the discontent radiating of the creature, but the reasons escaped him. The surroundings were pleasant, and it was peaceful, and here in the peace it was easy to forget that there were fifteen other kids out there who were trying to kill you. Maybe the mutt was hungry. It did look like it was trying to fish just now. It was rather strange that it failed so miserably though, since once would expect that such a fearsome creature would be able to fend for itself.

It was only when Hiccup caught sight of the dragon ogling enviously at a bird flapping it wings and zipping out of the cove that he finally understood.

Oh. _Oh_.

Hiccup's gaze fell back to the creature's tail. While he was no expert in aerodynamics, he had a pretty good guess what a battered tail fin must mean to the usually airborne beast. And _who _caused it.

He was still gulping down guilt when he picked up his bag. He didn't get very far before the seams of the bag just gave way and spilled the water-logged contents out. Everything smelled heavily of damp, making him wrinkle his nose even though he was already holding it all at arms-length.

The book was soaked, b ut unsurprisingly in one piece, so he just lay it open on the grass. The electric drill was definitely dead – Hiccup felt particularly woeful as he cast it away. It was _his_ special toy after all. The coil of wire and the weird breathing mask were all fine, but some of the glass vials in the leather case broke - he had no idea what to do with those bottles anyway, so he wasn't that concerned. The remaining bolas and spare nets he spread around the grass to dry - not that he had any use for them now that he couldn't rebuild his catapult. Since there was much to do save literally watch stuff dry, Hiccup found himself sitting by the dragon'

s side and just studying it.

He found himself taking in all the creature's details - how its ebony scales seemed to eat up any light shining on it, how its small spines ran from its head down its vertebrae, how it actually had a smaller set of wings located below its larger more obvious ones. Unintentionally, he started stealing lots of glances at the frayed left tail fin. Without realizing, he had starting easing his way towards the creature, till he was just in front of it. The creature noticed this movement but besides an irritated harrumph, it made no visible rejection. Well, until the scrawny boy decided to give it an awkward little wave, to which the dragon snorted as it swept it tail over its eyes. Having the tattered tail re-shoved in his face only increased his interest in scrutinizing the Night Fury.

Without thinking, he stretched a hand to touch the torn membrane. Before he could though, the dragon jerked its tail up, glaring reproachfully at him. Almost instantly Hiccup shot to his feet, feigning innocence as he scuttled away quickly.

The hour that passed was one of the most peculiar experiences Hiccup had ever had, but hardly the most dangerous. He also noticed that the red of his sores and wounds had actually lessened remarkably. All of it was splendidly puzzling, and Hiccup couldn't fathom why the Gamemakers' hadn't set the reptile on him already.

Or maybe, they _couldn't_.

At the back of his head, a memory of the odd metallic pin he had found before stumbling on the captured Night fury resurfaced. Long-reputated uncontrollable mutts and stray metal pins which happened to look a bit like a microchip? It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

All the same, he couldn't understand why it took scientists this long to make such as simple solution to the Dragon problem, and how the Gamemakers could make such a grievous error. But that wasn't really his problem, so he chucked aside and enjoyed the benefits. No microchip meant that the dragon no longer really saw him as a threat, and without the Gamemakers' interference, perhaps it wouldn't consider him as a meal, or annoying enough to die. Yet.

Thinking about meals eventually made Hiccup realize the lack of food supply in the area - well, except for fish. An idea clicked in his head as his eyes fell on the nets and the coil of wire lying in the grass.

The following hour he managed to occupy himself by weaving in the wires into a net. Deciding the holes were small enough, he threaded a new coil through the ends of the net, joining them up to till they made a loop. Next, a handle was needed, so he pillaged his timber from vines crawling on the cliff faces, twisting with wire to make it solid and straight enough to function as a pole.

It was at that moment he realized that his actions had earned an audience - not that the Night Fury was really hiding its interest, though as it seemed to be a rather haughty creature. Or maybe it just it was checking that he didn't decide to a head dive in the lake - again.

Trying to keep cool under the weight of the creature's gaze, Hiccup headed to lake, halting at the shore. He then slid the net under the surface gently, trawling along the bed.

_Annnndddd_ nothing happened.

After checking the net twice and sinking it back down, he began to suspect that the snorts that the dragon made occasionally were directed at him. It sounded like it was … _laughing?_

Rolling his eyes at the creature, Hiccup remarked scoffing, "Oh, like _you_ did so much better."

The end of the fishing pole hit his head at that moment and he spotted the dragon lolling its tongue out in mockery.

"Laugh all you want, incompetent lizard." His follow-up was prompt. He understood well it was ridiculous talking to an animal, even more so a muttation who could toast him in a breath, but the words were just automatic.

He could _swear_ that the creature just rolled back its eyes at him.

It was a good amount before he finally caught his first fish. Prying the slimy writhing cod out of the make shift net and slipping his fingers under its gill, he struck its head sharply with a stone. Picking up his catch, he was about to cry triumph and taunt the reptile when he discovered the green orbs of the beast mere inches from his own.

Squeaking, he lurched backwards. By the sniffing and the licking of its lips, he could pretty much guess that the beast was ravenous. It was possible that the disability had hindered the creature's hunting abilities, and besides, who didn't love stealing easy food from wimps? As the creature advanced slowly towards the boy, Hiccup could hear his own heart thudding or not. Microchip-ped or not, primeval instinct could throw had any restraint the dragon had before.

'_You know that it can probably smell fear, right?'_

'_This isn't fear. This is, erm, apprehension-"_

'_This? What, no, urgh…why don't we just give the dragon the fish and hope it doesn't kill us?'_

'_With one cod only? Look at the size of this guy! One cod isn't going to be enough-'_

'_You know what? Let's cut the mental conversation and address the flippin' elephant in the room!'_

'_It's 'dragon' in the 'cove'.'_

'_FEED THE MUTT BEFORE WE – erm - I BECOME DRAGON CHOW!'_

And that's how he ended up holding out his own meal to the scaly beast before him. The creature had stared suspiciously at the offering, before snatching it deftly out of his hand, gobbling it down instantly. If he had thought the creature would be satisfied with that, he must have thought wrong, because the dragon kept its eyes on him, grunting.

"I…I don't have anymore," Hiccup stammered, ruefully eyeing the now empty net.

In reply, the creature merely glanced at the net, then at the lake, then back at him. Seeing that the boy was still staring blankly, the creature repeated the actions again. It took a while before the message came through.

"You want me to fish for you?" The idea was so foreign to him that it took him some to wrap his head around it.

The creature crooned in what seemed to be an affirmative manner.

So Hiccup dipped the hand-crafted hand-net back in the lake water and brought out more fish, all which were devoured by the greedy creature. At one point, the mutt had ceased to prod him for more feed, so he gave his exhausted arms a rest. Just as he sat himself down, the beast darted to his side again, eyeballing him purposefully.

"I'll get you more in a sec," Hiccup said, rubbing his aching arms. Fishing was harder than it looked, and he was still pretty hungry.

The dragon didn't seem to have heard him this time, still eyeballing him intently. Hiccup heard a gurgle come from the back of the dragon's throat, followed by sometime that sounded like a cough. When the dragon parted it jaws again, a gooey piece of cod that fell from its mouth and landed in the lap of the boy. The creature then retreated a few steps back, still staring at him as it fell back onto it hind legs.

Hiccup peered disbelieving at the half-digested fish, holding it queasily in hishands. A nod from the dragon towards its own offering told him what it expected him to do. He was aghast for a second, then resigned the next. Well, survival always outlived civility. _And_ food hygiene.

His stomach was already churning when he reluctantly sank his teeth in the raw, slobber-covered meat. It tasted sort of sour, like acid – he didn't want to guess where that was from - and he wouldn't have swallowed it if the creature hadn't indicated that was expected of him too. Shuddering, he tried not to dwell on the revolting taste in between his teeth and flashed the dragon a lopsided grin instead, which he hoped would appease the beast.

The creature only squinted at him inquisitively. Slowly, it parted its maw from the side, retracting it teeth to reveal a gummy somewhat – _smile?_

Surprised, Hiccup's sickly feeling was overpowered by his surprise. Again, instinct overtook caution as he reached out towards the creature.

Reaction was immediate. The teeth filled the creature's mouth immediately as it snarled at him. Twisting its body, it leapt away, heading for opposite shore once more. Before it did, it stopped by the spread of drying tools on the grass. The nets it clambered over without a thought, but catching sight of the electric drill infuriated the dragon instantly. The useless tool had been blasted into smithereens less than a second later.

Its reaction to the book was the most noteworthy of all; the dragon drew closely to the book for a moment to sniff it, before recoiling sharply, a horrified expression on its face as it bounded away to his chosen resting grounds.

His arm still hanging aimlessly in the air, Hiccup remarked to no one in particular, "I just don't get what's going on anymore."

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

It was the eyes that haunted her. Soulless, yellow eyes.

The first time Merida had heard of how her father lost his leg in the Games was when she was three. She had been terrified then, because her da' would make dramatic sound effects and vivid descriptions of every second, but then he'd pick her up and tickle her until the fears had dissipated into laughter.

Elementary school hadn't been that kind. Everyone in the Districts had to undergo some form of 'patriotism' classes, and that meant watching a lot of the Hunger Games videography. Since her father had been one of the few victors of District 5, she had ended up watching his Games. A lot.

There had been no laughter at the mention of her father's missing leg after that. Instead, she had developed irrational fear towards large, furry black animals with yellow eyes.

With age, her skill at the bow had improved, till a point that she had discarded her childhood phobia and had replaced with her confidence in archery. She had reckoned that as long as she had her bow, no great black creature would ever make her afraid again, real or imaginary. She had even a few black wolf pelts to prove it.

That belief had been shattered yesterday.

Fear was foreign to the teenaged Merida – or at least that's what she told herself. Before the Arena, she had seen herself as some kind impenetrable tower; solid, steady and ever battle-ready. Then after entering the Arena, that notion was disproven over and over again.

She was weak. She was _scared_.

Those were the first thoughts that came to her mind as she woke, shivering in the shadow-filled cave. Sitting herself up, she winced as her left arm shifted. Squinting in the dark, she noted that it seemed to be wrapped up in some kind of splint to keep it at an angle, just tight enough to prevent her from moving it, but not enough to numb the ache. Her free hand ran up neck, past her red ringlets to massage the bruise on her scalp.

When her eyes adjusted fully to the dimness, she could finally make out the entrance of the recess. Taking measured movements, she crept over to the mouth, pushing away the green foliage hanging in front of it. As she did, she heard a lithe voice singing in a quite off-key fashion, _"But before I go and hit the ro-oh-oh-oad,-'_

Merida blinked hard as the sunlight tried to force their way into her pupil. Leaning on her good hand and keeping the injured one near her chest, she unsteadily tried to located the owner of the voice.

"_-I gotta know-oh, til then."_ The singing, though not loud, was particularly enthusiastic. _"When can I see you again?"_

When the white in her vision cleared, she found a small girl with a black-haired pony-tailed girl squatting down at over a little bowl, ripping berries off a broken stick and placing them in a bowl.

"_Oh, oh, oh. When can we do this again? Oh, oh, ohhh- "_ Any tune that the words possessed took a stage left when the girl took notice of Merida, smirking. "Well, get a load of this. Sleeping Beauty's finally up from her nap."

"I'm no beauty," Merida retorted automatically, as she sat on a log opposite the girl, "and to answer your second question, I hope _never_ to do this again."

"I concur." The black-haired girl nodded firmly. "It took me close to an hour to drag your fizzle-frazzle butt down here, and two to wrap that arm." The girl jerked her chin towards Merida's cast. "You really stink at looking after yourself, just F.Y.I. Want some?"

Merida stared down at the bowl of red berries, before furrowing her brows at the girl offering them.

The girl huffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, sweet mother of monkey milk."

She grabbed a handful of the fruit and shoved it into her own mouth. Chewing on them with exaggerated slowness, she swallowed, then waving her hands in the air as she dryly announced, "Ta-da!"

Placated by the demonstration, Merida took a handful of the berries and began eating them. They were sweet and very crunchy, tasting almost better than the game she had hunted a few days prior.

"Where did you find these?" The redhead asked, as she stuffed more in her mouth. The younger girl handed her a waterskin, which she accepted and uncapped with asking.

"They're everywhere in this Quarter," the kid answered, as she resumed tearing the stalks from the leaves. "We have them in District 11 too, so I recognized them." District 11 was all about agriculture, so perhaps the girl's knowledge about plants shouldn't have been surprising.

"I never really caught your name," Merida confessed as she handed back the water skin, before realizing that she had just taken a drink without checking. She didn't feel any sense of discomfort in her body yet – besides her most apparent injury - so her unease was put aside.

"Vanellope. What about you, Frizzles?"

Merida was taken aback to hear that nickname again. The first time the girl had called her that was after the parade in the Capitol._ Jings_. How time had flown. Where twenty-four of them had still been alive that night, only sixteen remained now.

"Merida Dunbroch, but just Merida would do."

Vanellope hummed disapprovingly, shaking her head. "Nah, I think I'll just call you Frizzles. Easier to remember." The irony was not lost on the older girl. Vanellope definitely sounded like a hybrid of 'Vanilla' and 'Penelope'.

Merida couldn't help but feel that she was missing something even if she sat comfortably on the log, gazing up at the red maples that surrounded them. Hearing the chirping swallows, she couldn't help grinning as she thought how easily she could pin one or two of those…

Her eyebrows shot up alarmingly. _Her bow!_

She spun to the smaller girl, demanding, "What did you do to my bow?"

Even though she was in a potentially precarious situation, Vanellope gave an impatient sigh. "Oh, hold your crumbs together, you diaper baby. I stowed it safely." She thumbed at the cave. "Delivery's free, but tips are strongly encouraged. Hah! Get it? Tips! Like _arrow_ tips! Ha!"

The redhead went to check for herself, and relief washed over her when she found her bow and quiver were indeed leaning against the cave wall. She counted the arrows and frowned at the new and smaller number, but given yesterday's events it couldn't really be helped.

With her broken arm forced to rest, there wasn't much she could do now, so she joined the girl by the fire once more. Any quiet that Merida could have hoped for was killed very quickly. Vanellope was obviously the talkative type, and her groggier companion wasn't surprised when she struck up conversation again. "What were you doing in the tower, anyways?"

Merida narrated the troubling turn of events, occasionally adding on her own opinion as she described the trio of allies. She explained how Turbo had given her an offer of alliance, and how she had refused him. From then, it wasn't easy to avoid talking about his role in the battle of the castle.

"-he betrayed her." Merida bit her lip, shaking her head. "His own district mate."

"It's the Games," the other girl muttered darkly, clenching one fist and driving it into her other palm. "It's kind of expected for allies to turn against each other at some point." She made a rude noise. "Of course, in Turbo's case, I would pin it down to him just being a lousy, low-life, cruddy little jerk-face."

That was Vanellope for you; Opinionated, cynical and frank, all wrapped in a tiny girl's body.

The train of conversation was starting to approach more uncomfortable topics, so they reversed and began exchanging information instead.

The younger girl had already done a full circle on the entire Arena – she had attributed this to her speediness, and also due to managing to keeping close to Cornucopia grounds at that time. Staying in Autumn was entirely strategic in her case; Winter was too cold; Summer was too rough. Spring was pleasant, but it was the Career headquarters.

"It isn't that great anyway," the girl shrugged, popping another berry in her mouth. "Spring has the perfect weather, but it's _reeking_ poison. Almost everything that looks edible there's got venom. The Careers don't issues with that though. They've got their own little food pyramid." She snorted, and Merida nodded in approval. They both obviously shared the lack of love towards the Careers.

They spoke of many things away from the Arena. Merida learnt that the girl was not only an orphan, but too a street urchin of sorts. At the sight of the old girl's horrified expression, Vanellope hurriedly assured her that the life was better than it sounded.

"Got my own li'l gang," she explained. "They're my family – sorta. They look out for me. And I know this may sound pretty unbelievable but," her volumes dropped several notches, "_I'm_ actually their leader."

Merida found herself telling the younger girl of her family and her home, _sans _the riots, of course. They were on Panem television.

"Must be nice living in a big manor," Vanellope murmured wistfully, resting her chin on her knuckles, sighing. "Bet you can get your own little quiet corner to shoot arrows and destroy stuff."

Out loud Merida agreed. However, she remembered too well the pain of turning away desperately starving citizens, or the countless visits of the Head Peacekeeper to their home, or how her mother had attempted to squeeze her into the mold of a Capitol woman as a last ditch effort to save their District from being razed to the ground.

They went through a few circles of chat before Merida asked about something had been bothering her since the night before. "Why did you stop running?"

"Hmm?" The girl seemed occupied in gobbling down more berries, but she was practically scraping the bottom of the bowl by now.

Merida was careful to slow her words. "When the bear chased you down the slope, you tripped up last night, then you got up and just stood there, just staring into space. When I yelled at you, you still didn't budge. What happened?"

"Got disorientated. A little brain-fuzz. No biggie," Vanellope replied dismissively – _too_ dismissively, to the point that the redhead could feel that she was hiding something.

Merida wasn't put off. "What _really_ happened?"

The black-haired girl didn't seem to hear, only remarking, "Oh, look, we're out of berries! I bet you're still hungry. Tell y'a, Frizzie, I'll go and help us get some-"

"Lass, stop avoiding the topic."

The corners of the younger girl's mouth were downturned, and her eyes soon followed. Merida noted the grimace in the girl's expression, but she didn't relent. "Look, I may be able to help you on this, but I need to know what-"

"You can't help me." There was a subdued resignation in the girl's tone even as she idly crushed the leaves beneath her boots. "No one can."

A tense silence fell between the girls, with only the whistling winds and the singing bird breaking it. Merida, perhaps suddenly realizing that full honesty wasn't always the surest road, opened her mouth to retract her question, but the younger girl had beaten her to the punch.

"I have a …_glitch_."

The redhead didn't understand. "A glitch?"

"That's what I call it." Vanellope tried to fake a smile, but it was unsuccessful. She lay the empty bowl near the fire, still not meeting Merida's eyes. "Since I was little, I've had these 'glitches'. There're just moments where I'd just-" the girl shifted in her seat, her expression growing graver,"-I'd just _blank out_. When I glitch, I suddenly stop responding to stuff; Can't see, hear, all _zilch_. And usually I can't move either. They're random and usually really short, but they're annoying, because there's never a warning and after I snapped out of them, I don't remember going under at all." She frowned more deeply. "It really sucks for time-tracking."

Vanellope swung her legs back and forwards, shoving her hands in her coat pockets as she did. "People used to make fun of me a lot because of it. Bullies liked shoving me in the mud during my 'spells'. They loved how shocked I always look – used to taunt me that I time-travelled." She made a dry chuckle, but the listener spotted a tint of red in the little girl's eyes.

"You said 'used to'," Merida pointed out.

"Ooh my. Someone's been paying attention," Vanellope remarked with mock surprise, before continuing in a somber tone. "There was … this big guy who showed the bullies up one day. Since then, they've never bother me, and those who did, well," she made a smile, "they actually became my friends. They're actually my gang now. It's kinda neat, I guess."

"But your… your glitch. It's still-" Merida left it hanging on purpose.

Vanellope rubbed her elbows awkwardly, her shoulders drooping again. "There isn't a cure. Not one that a street kid could afford, anyway. The healer said it's likely to wear off when I got older, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore-"

She didn't need to finish, because Merida could fill the blanks herself. _'-because I might never leave the Games.'_

It was only then that the consequences of her actions struck her. She had essentially goaded Vanellope into revealing her greatest weakness to the Capitol audience. If the lass had any sponsors from before, they would all back out on her right now.

Merida bit her lip. This couldn't be right to that to her. This girl was smart, spunky, and honest. She didn't deserve to be brought down by an unexplainable body quirk, and for crying aloud, she was only _twelve_.

_Fine._ She would admit it. There was no way she was leaving this kid on her own anymore.

She tried to sound causal as she asked. "You and me as allies. What d'ye say, lass?"

Vanellope gaped at her as if she had just said that that President Lotso was actually a cuddly, pink teddy bear that smelled like strawberries. When she spoke, she made her disbelief clear. "Sorry if you didn't catch it right, Frizzles, but having glitches is actually a _bad _thing."

Merida shrugged. "Well, I have a broken arm. Makes you and me equal then."

"If you keep in the cast, you might have it back sooner," Vanelloped countered. Seeing Merida's serious countenance however made her realize her companion's sincerity. Hesistatnly, she said, "You-you do mean it, don't you?"

The only reply was "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

The small girl pondered over this a while, securitizing the older girl carefully. "Well," she pretended to sound contemplative, "we did beat those idiots plus the grizzly bear back at the castle."

"Aye, we did." Merida played along, though she had a brow raised.

"_And_ we've managed to stay in each other's company for five minutes without pulling each other's hair out."

The redhead privately thought that this situation may not be permanent, but she still nodded all the same.

The little girl scrunched her face one last time, squinting intently at Merida. Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth and spitting on it.

"Ally?" She then held it out, daring the District 5 girl to take it.

Any girl with the tiniest sense of decorum would have recoiled immediately at such a practice that was both uncultured and unsanitary. Fortunately, Merida didn't quite fall in this category.

Without the slightest hesistation, she spat in her good hand before clasping it with the girl's. "Ally."

Between tomboy and tomboy, a pact was sealed.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Blindspots are of my own invention, so don't dig the THG books expecting to find it. Like the armbands, they're just for the story.**

**Expecting the full forbidden friendship scene? Well, not here. Don't even expect Hiccup to ride Toothless. Yet. And yes, 'paranoid' Hiccup is back. Note that in here, Toothless has only has a frayed left tail fin, not a missing one like the movie.**

**Vanellope's 'glitch' in this AU is actually a form of absence seizure, which is characterised by 'blanking out' suddenly for up to 15 seconds, then carrying on like nothing has happened, but it is possible to notice a lapse in time. It usually happens to children aged 4 – 12, and it's possible to happen to adults too, so I'm assuming Van falls in that range. Being from a poor and largely uneducated background, she would never know of the condition or the medication that can be used to manage it. The first hint of Van having absence seizure is actually in Chap 9. **

**Death Recap as of this chapter (in case)**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**6 - Taffyta**

**7 - Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno**

**9 - Nameless Boy**

**10 - Toothiana**

**Remaining Players**

**1 - Gothel, Shen**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup **

**3 - Hiro**

**4 - Dagur**

**5 - Merida**

**6 - Turbo**

**7 - Male Stabbington**

**8 - Rapunzel**

**9 - Nameless Girl**

**10 - Jack **

**11 - Vanellope, Ralph**

**12 - Elsa, Hans**

**Known Alliances (&amp; my l'il names for them)**

**The Careers: Gothel, Shen, Astrid, Dagur**

**Team J.E.: Jack, Elsa**

**The Dark Team : Turbo, Male Stabbington - Alliance Status Uncertain**

**Team****Wildchilds - Merida, Vanellope**

**Metal Band Band**

**Hiro - 2 bands**

**Jack**

**Rapunzel**

**Hiccup (Annnddd Hiro still doesn't know that. Bum. Bum)**

**Up Next: Can't say much, but I'm calling the chapter 'Tenuous Partnerships' – Go figure.**

* * *

**A/N: Whoohoo! Pass 150 reviews! **

**This story has really come a long way - honestly I never thought I'd make it pass the interviews, yet... here we are. I'm more confident then before that I will indeed actually finish this story, and hopefully I will. Who can say? **

**On a random note, has it ever occurred to you that 'Brave' doesn't actually fit the movie **_**Brave? **_**The movie isn't really about being Brave – maybe it's 'daring' to change your fate, but hardly bravery. (Quotes Mark Twain's 'Courage is the Mastery of Fear blah blah.) Perhaps it might be brave to take responsibility of your mistakes and stuff, but then the title should have been 'Responsibility' then. Or maybe 'The Bear and the Bow' – really, really fitting, though possibly not as easily marketable. **

**Really, what's with all the single-word titles? (Yes, yes, I know that ROTG and HTTYD exist. Thank you.) **

**Mailbox:**

**QueenElsaOfArendelle1: Mer and Van weren't allies in the last chapter, but they weren't against it. And now after saving each other's butts, they officially are. Team J.E. would be appearing in the next chapter, if I don't change my mind halfway.**

**countrygal15: Okay, I guess now that sorta makes sense. Am I really turning the characters into their movies selves? Oh dear. And her was I was trying to turn them into dark, angsty versions of their ...oh, oops. Thanks for reviewing! **

**A way to uncreative girl: Hmm... you have a point. I could totally take over Pitch's job at this rate.**

**Pitch: (quietly allocates the author into the 75th Hunger Games) And SharKohen is now no longer around to finish this story. Which means... (Triumphant grin) Pitch now rules the story! (Cackles wickedly) **

**Sorry. Caffeine.**

**Awsomaniatica: Yay! Thank you for your review! There'll be more intense chappies coming by, especially when alliances start being made and weirder shit happens (I'm so excited for the next big story arch). To be honest, I found the tracker jackers scarier than the wolf-mutts in the movie, simply because they are bugs. (ugh). **

**Guest (chap 4): Your guess makes a lot of sense (Snow - Santa Claus. Haha) but I guess you would know that that's not true any longer.**

**manyotpslife: Yay, the will-o-wisp ref was one of things I took forever to think of! Thank you so much for the review! Team J.E. will be back soon, promise, even if it's not excessively dramatic.**

**Guest (chap 24): Thank you so much for your review! I'm really glad that you enjoy it. I'll try to put in names every time there's a switch in perspectives in the future - hopefully that would make it better. For dialogues, it may be a bit harder, but I'll try. Thanks once again!**

**Lostblueheart 16: Haha, Merida has survived so far, as long as she doesn't die from Vanellope-istis. Elsa and Jack aren't dead yet, but they'll be back soon, in either next chappie or the one after.**

**Thanks for reading guys! See ya in two weeks time!**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	26. Chapter 25: Tenuous Partnerships

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 25: Tenuous Partnerships

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

_"The blindfold?" _

_"Oh, just to put my life completely in your hands."_

He'd messed up.

_"You're a guardian, Jack."_

He'd messed up.

_"You thrive on protective instinct." _

He'd messed up.

He'd never admit it, but the real reason he took over most of the night-watching was to avoid the nightmares that'd flood his mind if he even dared to shut his eyes. Elsa had seemed concerned, but never questioned his choices. She was no expert in comforting people, that much was apparent, and the only thing she knew was how to do was keep her distance. Jack appreciated the gesture, but inwardly he knew all it did was allow the remorse within to fester.

_"Hope you're pleased."_ It had been the first of Bunnymund's accusing messages.

He'd messed up.

_"It's all on your hands, you know."_ That had been the second.

He'd messed up.

An uncertain voice broke in, "Jack?"

He blinked, allowing his aimless staring to turn purposeful once more when he caught the concerned gaze of his goddess-like ally by his side. "Hmmph?"

Elsa seemed hesitant, and Jack guessed that asking what was bugging him was on the tip of her tongue. At the last moment however, she appeared to have changed her mind. "Are...are you cold?"

Sensing how awkward she must have felt in inquiring such a question, his face broke into a grin to laugh it off - anything to make her feel better. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine." He pulled the hood over his brown head, tucking his hands into the white coat. "See? All nice and cosy."

Yes, all his clothes were white now. Elsa had spun ice threads into his clothes, like her own. "For better camouflage against the snow," she had claimed, but Jack had detected disquiet when she had glanced at the tatters; these had been made on the day of ice castle had collapsed.

Strangely enough, the new clothes really kept him warm. Much warmer than the original had. Handling her other 'creations' like ice-knives and ice-fishing rods hadn't given him much of a frostbite, but they were cold on touch. His altered attire however was indeed toasty, and for once he was glad to tell her something true.

For now, they were just strolling beneath the snow-cap pines, as if they were venturing into a surrealistic winter wonderland. They were still full from breakfast, which was left-over venison from yesterday's hunt cooked by your truly indeed. Hence, the nabbing the next meal was not that urgent, and a little peace could be afforded while as they sought for a new for a new camp.

There had been fears that Careers might have returned, but those fears had been proven to be mistaken - perhaps they decided wallow in the warmer quarters a little longer to thaw out their frostbites. Lacking the constant sense of threat however gave the monster called 'guilt' more than ample opportunity to devour the soul of the District 10 boy. For no sooner had his companion ceased to speak than his mind flooded up with personalized taunts.

'_You should have been there with her.'_

'_She was counting on you, Jack.'_

'_What on Earth were you thinking?_

What _had _he been thinking? It only made sense protect the girl from his District. That way if he died but she lived, his mother and sister would at least enjoy the benefits of the extra food rewarded to the winning District. Tooth would have looked out for them – she had a big enough heart to.

But no, he had bailed out. He had thrown his lots with a foreign angel, coupled with a freeze factor and her own emotional burdens. On screen, it would have appeared that allying himself with the strongest tribute in the Arena this was nothing but a tactical move.

Jack had to chuckle grimly at that idea. If he really cared so much about 'tactics' as the Capitol would have wanted him to, he would have killed the District 3 boy at the Cornucopia when he had him a sword point. The metallic band that fit over his arm under his coat was a firm reminder of that.

_Then why was he such a mess? _

"I was wondering," he could hear her talking somewhere in the background, so he rapidly flushed out his own thoughts, "if you could, well, tell me the story. The Snow Queen one."

His head bolted up, shooting a surprised look at her. She blushed instantly, embarrassed at requesting for something so childish-seeming.

"I'm just curious about what it could be about," she defended herself.

He was exhausted, from his sleepless nights and his nightmarish days, but Jack couldn't find it in his heart to refuse the enchanting, beautiful blonde by his side.

"Sure." He glanced upwards through his own brown tufffs as he pondered how to begin, trying to ignore the ugliness lingering in the background. "It's supposed to be about, well, this spirit of winter that's called the Snow Queen, and she had this mirror. It was an evil mirror, or something like that."

'_She thought you were her friend.'_

"One day, the mirror was broken into a million of pieces, and these pieces were scattered over the world. One of the pieces fell into the eye of a little boy called Kai."

'_You had an agreement with her - an alliance - and you broke it.' _

"Kai used to sweet and kind little kid, but the shard fell into his heart – don't ask me the biology, it's a story-" Elsa made a snigger in response, which made his own grin a little more genuine "-but the thing turned his heart into a lump of ice. Suddenly, the whole world was just so _ugly_ and _rotten_ in his eyes, so he became nasty and mean-hearted."

'_Oh, and the funniest bit? She actually believed in you, Jack. Called you a 'guardian'. What a joke. Oh, what a joke.'_

"H-he had a best friend, a girl called Greta, and she bore the brunt of his changes, and, of course, she was hurt that he became so hateful and angry."

_She believed in you, and you betrayed her."_

"The Snow Queen wanted to fix her mirror back, so she kidnapped Kai - not that he resisted much. I mean, she was supposed to be drop-dead gorgeous and she took him flying in a magic sleigh. It's hard not to find it cool, right?"

"Was that a hint?" Elsa raised a brow at him, amusing tugging at the corner of lips.

He shrugged with feigned cheeriness. "Maybe. Maybe"

"_Tooth was wrong. You're no guardian."_

"Anyway, Greta noticed that he went missing, so she set out on a journey to find him. Long story short, she met a crazy witch, talking flowers, talking, some princess in some palace…"

"_You're a selfish, impulsive idiot."_

"Jack, are you okay?" Her words was only wind against his ears, as he got sucked into the vortex of self-reproach. He scarcely noticed that he was dragging his feet in the snow, and though his mouth was open to speak, no words came out. He didn't notice anxiety twisted on his lovely companion's face as she warily tapped his shoulder.

"_Emma would be so, so ashamed."_

Just when he was about to keel over and scream out the horrible of gnawing he had in his soul, a familiar sound rang in the air. A pinging sound.

A parachute.

His vision came back in focus, meeting the blue eyes that had been watching him worriedly for the past few seconds. Those eyes had now been averted, following out the silver package floating down from the sky. He too turned his head towards it, sinking feeling in his stomach increasing as they watched the object land on the snow drift before them.

Elsa remarked quietly, "It's probably yours."

It was not an inaccurate assumption. He was the one with throngs of sponsors and near-unending supply of funds. Wordlessly, he bent over, scooped up the container, detaching the parachute strings. Pulling off his gloves for better grip, he reached for the catch, but his red fingers paused as he gave a meaningful glance at the blonde girl.

Elsa deciphered it at once, suggesting herself, "I'll continue on further. I think there might be a cave or two in those mountain faces. Then you won't need to live in an igloo again."

That's pretty much what had happened the previous night. While traveling, they couldn't find anywhere to stay, so Elsa had constructed a little ice house for them. It was nice on the outside, but for a regular warm-blooded teenage boy it was freezing indoors. When he tried starting a fire inside, it took all of Elsa's concentration to keep the structure together – not quite five-star residence, obviously.

"Stay in yelling distance," he said with a slight grin, as it occurred to him how ridiculous such an instruction was as addressed to a girl who could form blizzards in her hands.

"Of course." She beamed in return, assuring and kind, but Jack noted the subtle uncertainty hidden in the corners of her eyes. She spun away, trudging through the snow with a grace that none but her could possibly achieve in trudging.

His fingers were frozen and heavy with dread as he fumbled with the latch, breaking over the container. The object inside was heavier than he had imagined and it had tumbled out just as the container lid flung open, dropping into the snow.

Huffing in annoyance, he stooped over, picking up the item but his heart almost stopped when he realized what it was. There was a wave of incredulity, then confusion. He scrutinized it carefully, checking its knobs and buttons. He had seen it use before, but never owned one. It was far too pricey, and the Overlands were never in particular need for it.

He experimented with the switches, twisting the knobs. He found the main button and holding it out a distance, he pressed it. The result was a bit of a shocker – no, very much the shocker, such that he jerked back from it. This must have been of the strongest of its kind ever invented, even with its light weight and small size. It must have been very costly to bring to him in the Games, and for the first Jack began to doubt that his mentor only had that much to splurge.

He pocketed his 'gift' first, before checking the metal container. As usual, a thin folded note was inside. Trembling with dread, he unfolded it.

'_YOU'LL HAVE TO USE THIS SOME POINT,'_ it read sombrely.

At first he felt relief - relief that for once his mentor hadn't decided to take the opportunity to heap coals on his again. Then the good feeling dried up like desert rain, and the horror of the message came crashing down on him.

He couldn't do this. No, he couldn't. Not to _her_.

It wasn't like how he felt about the District 3 boy – no, that had been compassion. For Tooth, it had been responsibility - that he had a job and neglected it. But for Elsa … it was like snipping the petals of a perfect rose.

Something in him stood stoutly against such a crime, though he could not explain it.

Yet sensibility in him argued, '_There are no friends in the Arena. Only alliances you make, and alliances you break.'_

There were no friendships. And there was nothing more than that either.

A sudden thunder clap nearly tore him out of skin when it boomed in his ear, and he raised his head sharply to the sky. But the sky of the winter quarter was clear and white, nary a sign of storm. Then he realized it was no thunder clap.

It was a cannon shot.

He paled. _Elsa._

He called to her at once, but he could only hear traces of his voice beating against the cliff faces nearby. His breaths suddenly become short and shallow as he took off, almost flying over the thick snow.

Logic told him was anything happening to her was unlikely, but stranger things have happened. 'Ice sorceress or not', without a weapon and with the cursed rule, she was vulnerable. As a witness to the events at the Ice Castle, he knew that to be only too true, and that made him accelerate.

"Elsa!" He yelled so loud that he could almost feel a rip at the back of throat, but still no answer. His eyes darted furiously around, scanning through the bare pine trunks as he searched desperately.

_If anything happened to her…_

_No!_ He shook off such thoughts, trying to focus. "Elsa!"

There was no sign of her. Her steps in the ice were faint, as if she hadn't walked in them at all, and even though he was supposed to be a decent tracker, he could barely read the marks with his mind torn apart by fear and dread.

_If anything happened to her …_

It was an unusual spray of frost on one of pine branches that pointed him in her direction once again. Thin remnants of newly made ice sheets on the ground told him how she had managed to get this far this fast. Racing forward, he was panting so heavily that it felt as if his ribs were on verge of snapping.

She couldn't just go like that. Not without explanation, and not soon. Not like Tooth.

_If anything happened to her, he would never stop blaming himself._

He had been running so long and so hard that he hadn't noticed when the forest landscape had ended when the cliff-side began. There was no one there, but the splats of ices around there confirmed the worst of his fears.

"Elsa!" He was crying himself hoarse, but he didn't care. He whipped around the ice formation, seeking their maker but not finding her.

Then finally, a muffled reply, "Down here!"

He dashed to the cliff's edge, only forcing himself to halt when he realized the platform was nothing but slippery ice. Cautiously, he dropped to his knees, crawling over to the brink.

Peering over it, the sight that greeted him was a certainly out of place, but not unwelcome. Some feet below from where he was, Elsa was standing on what seemed to hasty constructed ice platform sticking carelessly to the face of the ice-cliff. Her appearance was somewhat disheveled, but besides that she was unharmed.

"What happened?" He almost screamed relief and disbelief erratically flooding into his system.

"Oh, I…slipped," she explained, half-embarrassed, half- casual. "Give me a moment and I'll get you down."

With a flick of her hand, a glassy stairway appeared, joining the cliff edge and her ice platform. Usually, Jack would have paused to examine the intrinsic designs she wove into the railings and on the handles, but for now he slid all the way down the steps without a second glance, rushing towards her.

"I was just looking over the edge to see if I could spot any caves out there," she gestured at the backdrop beyond them. "When the cannon shot rang out, I was startled and the cliff edge suddenly became ice and I sl-"

He cut in immediately, his tone becoming harsh. "What were you _thinking_? You could have _died_!"

She shrank back, shocked by his ferocity, before her expression became cool. "But I _didn't_." She tapped her foot on the ice ground pointedly. "In case you didn't notice, I _do _have ice powers."

"_That_ wouldn't have saved you if you hit your head on the way down!" He didn't know it, but his voice was still raised. "And why did you run off like that?" She opened her mouth to interject, but he gave her no such opportunity, fervently exclaiming, "When two people make an _agreement_, they're supposed to _keep it_! If they _agree_ to stay in yelling distance, they _stay_ in yelling distance!"

He stopped short when he fully grasped what he had just said. The irony was like a slap across his face.

'_You bloody hypocrite.' _His mind took greedy pleasure in taunting him.

Elsa's visage was a mix. He caught some shock, a tint of hurt, a hint of shame. But it was melting quickly from her face as she slowly inhaled, her expression turning icy impassive. He could feel a rising chill around him, one that his wonderful new white coat couldn't protect him from. He observed by her clenched fists and pursed lips that she was trying to hold back.

Or maybe she was just trying not to disqualify herself by impaling him with icicles that very moment.

"I'm sorry." It was just to soothe her anger at first, but then he forced himself to be more sincere. "I'm sorry. I was just-" _Paranoid? Guilty?_ Culpable for the _death_ of an innocent girl? "-worried."

Elsa's fists unwound, and he noted that her muscle relax as her arms dropped by her side. Her breaths grew more even as she scanned his shivering form.

"I…I should be sorry." He could tell it was difficult for the words to even pass her lips. Her eyes gazed into his own. "You're right. I shouldn't have run-off." With some hesitation, she took was his trembling, ungloved hands and steadying it firmly in her own. "I won't do it again. Promise"

He didn't know how to answer that, so a silent lull came to sit between them. After a moment, his hands couldn't take it anymore. "Um, Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"Your hands are really cold."

She released him at once, stepping back as she did. "Yes. Of course. Sorry."

They turned their eyes back to the gaze at the frozen quarter, their eyes looking for any signs of movement.

"I don't think it happened here," he said at last. If it had, a hovercraft would have appeared by now to pick up the body.

"I don't think so too," she agreed willingly. They really didn't want any other tributes to be here. Death was not a pleasant topic to dwell, so she asked "Where to now?"

He waved at the snow-ridden land before them. "Let's try finding a campsite somewhere there, I guess."

She nodded. Her expression turned into one of focus as she raised her hands, willing yet again another stir way into existence. She beckoned him over, and both of them begun their steep descent to the valley below.

On their way down, her voice re-entered. "Um, Jack?"

"Yes?" His anger and fear had already melted away.

"For your concern - thank you. You're … you're a really sweet boy."

He couldn't stop the impish grin. "Even the yelling?"

She paused to shoot an amused look at him. "Well, maybe I could have had a little less of that."

The minute she swung back to face front, the grin was warped into a dark grimace. His hands went back to his pockets, fishing for his gloves again, only for his fingers to briefly brush against the metal canister that his mentor had just sent him. From the heights, his spirits plummeted back down as he recalled his mentor's words. '_You'll have to use this at some point.'_

He wondered if she would still think him 'a really sweet boy' if she knew he carried a blowtorch with enough firepower to burn through one of her icicles in a second - or if he wanted to, her skull.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"Did you see her face? It was like 'Oh, please don't kill me! Don't kill me! Please don't- ahhhh! _Hehehe_-"

There were snickers that followed Dagur's twisted rendition of the events preceding the cannon shot. Astrid only felt the sickened feeling in her gut growing as she washed the blood off her hands. She could hear her allies chatting amongst themselves, almost as if they hadn't heard the hovercraft swooping over their heads to pick up the fresh kill sprawled on the red and yellow ground.

She had no one to blame for the bile rising up her throat. She had chosen to put the District 9 girl down herself, and it was fair that she had to live the consequences.

To be frank, it wasn't as if she had wanted to kill the girl. No, it was a matter of survival; if she didn't prove herself to be the steely, heartless killer as they had expected her to be, the Careers would have ganged up on her and put her out for once and for all.

She already had two strike-outs. The first was the District 12 boy, Hans. He wasn't dead, and it's been two days since the battle on the mountain. She couldn't understand why he hadn't bled to death – Heather had struck him through and through - and she said as much to her allies confronted her the matter. Not that it mattered now – they had pinned his survival down as her fault for not finishing the job. The second had been the escape of the District 3 boy. Dagur had blamed her for leaving him behind on the camp in the first place. Gothel had blamed her for even sparing the wiry boy's life. Shen outwardly hadn't blamed her for anything, only quietly sharpening his curved blade. His pierced ribs were now securely wrapped, but every now and then he would grunt in pain, before .

Basically, in the team where everyone shared mutual dislike for one another, _she, _Astrid Hofferson, top of District 2's Career Training and the youngest to ever be so, was the least liked. And when it came to the Careers, being on the extreme end of the scale was always precarious situation.

She had been anticipating today. To going to the Autumn Quarter. It had been decided they needed more time to strategize on how to eliminate the ice witch, soon the meanwhile they would set their sights on a new target – preferably a more human one. She had seen the District 5 girl flee into the quarter of brown maples, and she had been all too eager to provide that information. Besides survival instincts, her thirst for action and adrenaline drove her to desire a worthy opponent, and who better than the tribute with the score of eleven?

But for the long hours they had spent today in combing through the hills of fallen leaves, they hadn't found the District 5 girl. She was either hiding well, or she had left the quarter all together. Only by chance they had stumbled on the District 9 girl. She was an unremarkable person, and obviously none too bright to choose to drink from a river so openly. Though she had never considered herself a huntress, even Astrid had known that this was the easiest kind of prey.

When they had the unfortunate tribute pinned to the ground, the Careers had cast lots on who got to do it, and it fell on Dagur. However, the scarred boy had taken his time, taunting and nicking the girl till Shen had snapped at him to hurry up. That one sarcastic quip had somehow set Dagur off in exploding fury, starting a yelling match loud enough to scare off all the birds in the immediate vicinity. If the District 5 girl had been anywhere near here, the voices would have sent her off.

Gothel had decided to intervene, but it had been unsuccessful. Frustrated and impatient, she had raised her own axe and beheaded their miserable victim for once and for all.

Their voices had fallen and their eyes had turned to her: the short, gangly girl panting heavily as she wiped the blood off her face. Any accusations or her being 'soft' or 'cowardly' had gone out of the window as she had grimly told them to stop wasting time and shut up.

She had somewhat regained the trust of her teammates – or whatever it was they kept between them -and another kill had been added to her name. But as she washed the blood off herself in the same river that the 'casualty' had been drinking from, a wave of revulsion swept over her.

This wasn't what she wanted.

When they had spoken of the Games at home, they had spoken of the opportunity; the chance to become more than who you were; to be a victor. But what kind of victory was it to defeat someone who couldn't fight back? Most other trainees in Career Training had always focused on the material rewards that came with victor-ship, but for her? It was the _honor_. To be the bringer of honor and pride to her district was her deepest wish.

But to earn honor, one must fight honorably with respect and dignity, like a warrior. And to be the very best warrior indeed was her life-long goal.

She reflected on the difference between the first time she had spilled blood and her most recent. Her battle against the District 5 boy had been largely in defense. He might have stood a chance if he only had the training, since it had been only after much struggle that she had managed to overcome him after all. He had dared to put up a fight and she could respect that.

But the death of the District 9 girl had such no dignity. It was short, quick and convenient. It was no warrior's fight, but a butcher's slaughter. The slaughter of easy prey.

When most of the red on her clothes and weapon was gone, she joined her allies once again. They were sharing a small meal amongst themselves while engaged in conversation, and one could mistake them for conversing friends if it was the weapons strapped to their backs and waist. She had taken one of sandwiches Gothel had prepared, before setting herself down on small stone crag, sullenly biting into the chewy goodness.

"-think the District 12 boy manage to survive so long?" The question had been asked by Dagur.

Astrid quickly shot a glare at him for bringing up her 'slip-up' again. However, the scarred boy wasn't facing her at all, and she realized that he brought it up out of curiosity rather than accusation, so she relaxed and resumed to chew on the food, trying to ignore how her coat still smelled of iron.

"Maybe your late district mate didn't cut him right," Shen mused half-absently, his focus more on observing the scenery around them.

"Hello - _District 4_?" Dagur made a disbelieving expression. "We do fishing – spear fishing. Heather knew her way with spears. Like in everything else." The last part muttered bitterly.

"Maybe it was something else," Astrid provided, glad that so far the conversation hadn't veered back to her. "Do you think the Ice Witch went back for her boyfriend?"

That earned a scornful snort of laughter from Gothel, who in turn earned quizzical faces from the other members of the company. "Oh, pardon me," she apologized laughingly, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's just that, well, I don't think they're _really_ a couple at all."

"Like it's for show?"

"Well, that's possible." There was little that the two Career girls agreed on, but on this matter the blonde girl found herself nodding. "It's not as if they had time to build a relationship. He'd just confessed on interview day."

"Then it must be sponsors."

"C'mon! You've seen the guy! He's hardly sponsor material,"

"No, no, he isn't indeed," Gothel said, as she unsheathed one of her daggers, fiddling with it. "But" a wry smile twisted on her lips, her brown eyes holding a knowing gleam in them, "his so-called girlfriend _is_."

"_And_ I just though we settled that they aren't really a couple." The District 4 boy's tone was heavy with exasperation, even as he drove his heavy sword into the leafy dirt ground.

Astrid leaned in slightly, musing, "Well, _he_ likes her. At least he claims too. That's half the love-equation."

Gothel scoffed at her input. "Nonsense, darling. We all know that it's _impossible_ for men to truly love."

"Of course, _you_ would speak from experience." The malice-laden comment from the usually level voice gained the attention of the entire group. Shen only responded to the weight of their stares by raising an eyebrow, before peering at the target of his disparagement.

Gothel straightened her posture, her lips pursing as she tossed her curls back. For one moment she appeared furious, until traces of anger molded into a countenance of steely derision. Her tone was deceptively calm. "Well, Shen, dear, at least I _understand_ the concept of love."

"You don't know anything about 'love' any more than I do." The edge in the martial artist's voice suddenly sharpened. "And _don't_ 'dear' me."

Gothel cocked her head to one side, feigning concern. "_Oh my, my, my_." She clucked her tongue, raising her eyebrows in false surprise, "I haven't happened to have reminded you of '_mummy dearest',_ have I, Shen dear?"

His usually pale-faced face blackened. "Shut up, or so help me, those will be your last words."

Both other Careers shrank back at the ferocity, but Gothel only threw her head back, cackling.

"Oh _dearest, darling-est_ Shen, if you could really kill me, you would have done it long ago in the Academy. But of course," Gothel gave a careless shrug, tossing a condescending beam to her district-mate, "you were never good enough."

It is said that it's near impossible for a forest to be silent – too many insects buzzing, bird squeaking, winds rustling the dried leaves – yet somehow this was achieved as the white-haired boy from District 1 narrowed his brows at the smirking girl toying with her array of daggers. Unconsciously, Astrid placed her sandwich down, while bringing her dripping axe onto her lap.

Eventually, the tension was broken by a very peeved Dagur. "As 'interesting' as this conversation is – with all the thinly-veiled secrets and sob-stories and broken childhood issues you guys probably have-" both District 1 tributes glared at him, but the scarred boy remained unperturbed "-could we really get back to the topic before I get annoyed and start cutting up your collective livers? Yep. Thanks."

Shen grunted at this remark, getting to his feet as he stomped off to the forest instead. Gothel smirked again, this time triumphantly, while Astrid struggled to keep her own face impassive, though her muscles were screaming for her to run. But of course, she couldn't.

"As I was saying earlier, I have a little theory about the cute redhead of District 12," the black-haired girl began – which made no sense, because she had said no such thing before the conversation had veered off course. "I'm guessing that he knew about her powers before the Games."

"He looked surprised," the blonde objected, running her fingers along the axe blade.

Gothel waved it away quickly. "Could be faked, dearie. I do it all the time. Now where was I? " she tapped her lips, before her face lighting up again. "Ah, yes. So our little red headed Hans concocts a wonderful little love story between him and the ice witch, then feigns horror to discover his beloved actually has ice-powers - but really, he isn't – but nonetheless still continues to play the smitten little puppy and feeds 'feels' the Capitol by saving her life in the castle, _blah, blah._"

Gothel broke-off the tirade to take a sip of water. At that moment, Astrid was surprised by how intently she had been listening all along. Somehow, the idea of using a 'love-story' as some kind of survival tactic intrigued her - maybe because an idea based sentimentality and 'weak emotions' was foreign in District 2. Idly, she wondered if she would ever be able to pull something like that off with Hic-

She promptly erased the thought.

"By this time," the older girl continued, "throngs of die-hard romantics would be clambering to give funds to 'support' their favorite little couple. The ice witch doesn't need those sponsors, of course, because she's an ice witch. That means however-"

"-all the funds are redirected to the twelve boy," the quiet voice of Shen finished her sentence. Any anger he and previously had vanished, but there was still iron in his eyes. "What time is it?"

Astrid squinted thought the foliage over head. "Late afternoon? Sundown won't be for long."

"We need to leave. Now." His tone indicated no room for argument, but of course, his allies didn't pay heed to it.

"What? Didn't we just, I don't know, _get here_?"

"This is certainly an outrageous idea!"

"We haven't even found that redhead girl from District 5!" Astrid was taken aback by how desperate she sounded. She needed to fight someone – someone who was actually worthy of her. Maybe it would wash out her own self-disgust. Well, maybe.

Shen was unmoved by the protests. "If that girl stays in this quarter, then she is a fool. A great beast haunts these parts. One who can be hurt and yet not harmed." Slowly, he raised one of his arms, shows wooden splinters in his closed palm, the blunted metal ends showing them to have once been arrows. Gravely, he turned to her, "You said the District 5 girl took a bow and quiver, didn't you?"

Astrid could feel her throat drying up as she took one of snapped arrowheads in her own hand. It was coated in dried blood, with bits of black hairs stuck to it. "Y-yes."

Shen nodded, before casting the rest of the pieces to the ground. He turned to the other tributes. "It took us almost half a morning to come this far in this quarter, and it'll not less than half an afternoon to return. If we are fortunate, the beast only roams the night."

"Yes, yes, how very dramatic," Astrid could hear Gothel murmuring under her breath, but she at least appeared slightly disturbed by this news as well.

"This is stupid!" Dagur declared furiously, rising his arms in frustration. "Why can't we just hunt the darn creature?"

The pale boy from District 1 quickly assessed him and his childish pout. In a voice dripping in contempt, he replied, "If you wish to risk your skin by provoking some mutt somewhere, be my guest. Your company would be sorely missed, of course, but I'm sure we'll make do." The sarcasm in the last sentence was not lost on the other boy, and he glowered accordingly.

Shen ignored him, gesturing to the girls to follow. Astrid scrambled her feet, swinging her axe over her shoulder, while Gothel hopped up from spot to join them on the path, leaving the sullen scarred boy behind.

As they wandered back into forest, Astrid began to truly understand Shen's concern. Splinters of bark and scatter brambles were all around, marking a terrifying clear trail of destruction, leading into the misty depths of the darker woods. On certain remaining debris, she noted the giant scratches that must have come from paws twice as large as them.

As they soberly trekked under the cover of the maple reds, they were interrupted by the crunching of leaves leaves underfoot. Unsurprisingly it was the District 4 boy, still sulking as he reluctantly filed himself in with them.

"Didn't expect you to join us so soon. I expected ten more seconds," Shen remarked tauntingly. The scared boy's face darkened, but he made no reply.

As they approached the edge of the autumn, someone asked, "So what now?"

Shen's answer was precise. "We return. We rest. We hunt again tomorrow."

"Here? Again?" Astrid waited with bated breath.

"Maybe let's try someplace that might have less freaky creatures."

"The Witch's in the Winter. The beast stalks the Autumn. So …Summer?"

"Summer."

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

Hiccup was at abnormal state of peace.

In front of him a merry little stream – a rare sight in the rocky Summer Quarter. There he had set up an assortment of fish traps, and before evening he had no doubts that it would be crammed with fishes before sundown.

On his shoulder sat a pesky, but remarkably well-behavior little mutt- ahem, _dragon_ which he had learnt was called a 'Terrible Terror'. In his hand, he held the last bola net that he had, before weaving into the wooden frame that he had cut out.

"I think that's about it, Sharpshot," he told green-reptile. Yes, apparently it seemed his fate that he would forever speak to creatures that couldn't speak back.

The terrible terror simply licked it's nose, its large yellow eyes flicking from him to the nets, then licking its nose again. Hiccup had to admit that once you get past athe fact that it could spit fire from its mouth and it was created by a bunch of dogmatic control-freaks, it was kind of…_cute_.

His friendship with this little creature took off better than whatever his attempt with Toothless. He suspected that the latter probably had pride issues, or maybe he – _it _still held a grudge against the human who shot him down.

Yes, the majestic Night Fury was dubbed _Toothless_.

In the few hours Hiccup had spent wandering about the cove soaked in dragon spit, somehow most of his cuts had gotten got healed up. He had started feeling so reenergized in the cove that he had fished up the _entire_ lake as a form of thanks towards the big black beast.

With his catches, he had tried to bribe the ebony dragon in letting him touch it, just once – he just wanted to know what the scales were smooth or rough, or how wide exactly was its tail. But Toothless had been all too enthusiastic about gobbling down his offerings and all too _un_enthusiastic about his attempts to make contact with him – _it_, he meant _it_.

In summary, he had wasted a good afternoon, and now the lake had run out of _fish_.

He had been really reluctant to leave the cove; it felt safe, isolated and hidden from all the scary tributes that were bigger and stronger than him. But fish was one of the main things that kept Toothless from swallowing him whole, so …yeah. Hobson's choice much.

He had somehow managed to leave the cove through the ravine he had entered from, and found himself plunging deeper into the unfriendly forest before finding a river-way that had fish slightly larger than the palm of his hand. It wasn't that hard to build some new fish traps, so he did, and dumped them into the stream accordingly.

Just as he scooped out his first catch, a dragon no larger than a house cat had leapt down one of the trees, jumping onto the fish pile, sniffing early at the fresh catch. He had tried to shoo it off the way one would shoo off the house-cat, entirely forgetting that the dragon what it was and, _well_... let's just say his hair still felt a little singed.

Subsequently however, the creature had called a ceasefire when it was distracted by the reflective shine from the metal band around his wrist. Puzzled yet amused, Hiccup had rotated the band a few times, watching as the lizard-like beast had hopped after the spot of light, mesmerized.

Teasing the creature had been a good start, but after deciding to feed it a fish did the creature really warm up to him. It liked to rub its spiny head against his shin, or perching on his shoulder. With a few fish bribes, it eventually started taking instructions, like fetching his tools, or carrying ropes over the branches he couldn't climb. Why couldn't Toothless be this easy to train?

_Train_ – did he just think the word _train_? That was a rather strange way of putting it; sounded like he was running a circus or something.

With his distaste towards dragons somewhat lessened, but his fear of them unchanged, Hiccup embarked on a new project while waiting for the fish traps to do their work. It was to build traps once, but this time, for _dragons_.

With the electric drill gone, his fun-times with funky contraptions were over, but basic physics and ingenuity managed to get him through. Having hung out here for so long, he was starting to get very familiar with the area, especially the part nearer to the cove entrance. Hence, he started constructing some traps to snare the beasts. The traps, made of only wood and rope, would hardly hold fire-breathers for forever, but that was the point. After his experience with Toothless,he decided that there was no way he was ever building something that would could hold any creature permanently. Thus, each trap was carefully crafted to delay, rather than to destroy or starve.

Fine, he didn't like killing things, even mutts. Happy?

It was at this point that abnormal state of peace that peace was broken. Just as Sharpshot had helped him to fix up the latest dragon trap, the creature's head suddenly jerked skyward in alarm, its eyes darting frantically about.

"What's up, bud?" He asked the reptile, but it made no response.

The lizard-like animal left his shoulder, flying back to the pile of fish he had caught. When Hiccup tried to stop him – _it, it!_ -snarled back at him, as if it didn't recognize him at all.

Hiccup recoiled instantly. "Sharpshot!"

The beast simply took a fish in its maw, thin narrow black of its pupils glaring at him. It was only then that Hiccup had saw the something glowing on the creatures neck, a faint humming sound coming from it.

A microchip.

With a flap of the wings, Sharpshot took off to the air, not sparing a glance behind.

'_Fickle friendships,'_ Hiccup thought morosely. Well, at least Toothless never flew away. But that was because _– right_.

So Hiccup dejectedly returned to his pile of fish, checking his fish traps. Once more, he was alone. He was starting to miss the Night Fury's dismissive company.

Of course, Hiccup wasn't alone as he thought, but he only found that after he felt something latch around his legs and lift him off the ground, twirling him in circles. Disorientated and extremely surprised, a cry escaped he found himself dangling off a tree branch, suspended upside down. He was only groping helplessly in the air, only for another cord of hair to spring out from nowhere and wrapped around his upper torso all, strapping his arms to his side.

Wait. _Hair?_

"I can't believe I did this."

Startled, he jerked his head back to see the owner of the voice, only to smack his head against a tree trunk instead. "_Ow! Ow. Ow."_

"I can't believe I _actually_ did this!"

He blinked, his entire body spinning around as he wriggled in his golden bonds, before the angle of vision was adjusted sufficiently such that his eyes would be meet those of a bright shade of green.

"_Ahhhhhhh_!" He cringed back, and his scalp collided with the trunk again.

* * *

"I can't believe I _actually_ did this!"

"_Ahhhhhhh_!" The boy yelled, shirking back and instantly hit his head again.

Rapunzel's overload of joy diminished somewhat as she noticed the grimace on his face. "Oh, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm- " he left it hanging there. The same way he was hanging off a tree trunk. Which was because _she _put him there.

It was just as well, because her attention was taken up by the little number written on his battered black coat. He was a Career. She had captured a Career all on her own; no help from any strange allies, and certainly no help from Eugene. She couldn't refrain doing a little jig right then and there. "I can't believe I did this!"

"Your sympathy is killing me," the boy deadpanned in his weird nasally voice. He peered down – or rather, up – at his bonds. "This is really hair, isn't?"

He pretty much lost her at 'killing me'.

Kill him. She inhaled sharply. Now she just had to kill him.

The idea really made her queasy, so she spun away from him for a moment, pacing up and down she pondered. "Okay. Just need to kill him. Just need to kill him. Okay, but how?"

"On second thought, maybe it's not that great an idea-"

The blonde ignored him because her mental capacities were fully occupied in the task on hand. "Fastest method of death available? Knife to the… throat? But that's really gross. So...? The heart, I guess."

"You guess?" The boy squeaked incredulously. He was aghast, but since this was really about his demise, it was natural that he was concerned about it.

She searched through her satchel, fumbling for the little blade. She held out to her victim, and he tensed up immediately. Marching forward, she grimly approached him, holding the steel near his upper ribs. She could see him trying squirm away, but the bonds were too tight.

This was her kill.

She breathed in then breathed out, as ready to plunge it all the way. "I can do this, I can do this," she murmured, trying to shut out the accelerated respiration from the Career boy.

About a minute later.

"I _can't _do this!" The knife was flung away. "I'm sorry. It's just too weird to stab something – to stab you. It's just …too direct."

The boy sighed in relief, but, of course, it was far too soon.

"It's okay, though. I mean, I can strangle you! Yeah! Strangle you with my … I have to strangle you with my _hair_?" A paused for thought. "But that's _disgusting_!"

Another minute later.

"Tell you what; I'm going to throw you into stream and drown you."

A hasty glance and a sigh later.

"Okay, the stream's kinda shallow. That would pose a problem…"

Quiet contemplation later.

"I guess I could just hang you by the neck till you - you know - die."

Hardly a pause later.

"But I'd pry your corpse from my hair. _Eww_."

A shudder later.

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but couldn't you just let me-"

"No."

"Erm, but-"

"No!"

"-but-"

"This is stupid! I'm just going to kill you and get this over with."

A long staring contest later.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should let you go…"

A blink later.

"No! Can't trust people like you! No way!"

A headbang against a tree trunk later.

"I have brought dishonor:to my district, to my mentor, to my chameleon…"

Later.

"District 2 boy, PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER!"

Later.

"I'm a wimp - a sad, pathetic wimp. I'm utterly useless. I should just die."

Later.

"I. WILL. END. YOU!"

Later.

She was curled up in a ball with her hands in her palms, her mind blank and her entire body shaking.

She heard a little throat clearing in the background. "Um, hi?"

Rapunzel gazed up towards the upside down boy.

"Don't to pry or anything," he continued, flushing – or was because blood was rushing in his face? "But you seemed to be - I don't know - at war with yourself."

"Is it that obvious?" She asked timidly, as if she was the one in bonds instead of him.

"Um." He bit his lip nervously. Rapunzel took the opportunity to thoroughly take in his appearance – bony figure, messy hair, spray of uneven freckles over his cheeks. It was only then that she realizes how harmless he looked. It brought her back to interview, when she bore witness to the awkward, droll yet lighthearted boy who poured his heart to television.

_Career. Harmless._ It seemed impossible that the two words could be next to each other.

The boy muttered a string of oaths before he informed her, "I got a proposition for you."

She merely raised a brow at him but said nothing in return.

"You don't really want to kill me, and I can assure you I won't kill you"- her eyebrow shot up even higher. "So I think we should, you know, work together."

Her skepticism was apparent. "Uh-huh."

The boy tried to shrug which resulted in him twirling around again. "It's not like it'd be the end of the world."

There was a pause.

"Okay, it _might _be the end of the world. But you could do way worse than me."

"You're a Career." She said it as if it was self-explanatory, and it was.

He argued. "Well if you could catch me off guard, I can't be a good one, can I?"

She pressed her lips together, locking her eyes with those of the boy again, searching for mischief. In the periphery of her vision however, there was a shiny glint. She traced quickly back to it source, and then she surprised at what she saw.

Around the boy's wire like arm was a gleaming metal band, identical to hers.

"Where did you get that?" She pointed at him, her jaw almost fall to the ground.

He craned his neck uncomfortably to follow her finger. "Oh, that? Err…it was a gift?"

"So was mine." She raised her left arm, rolling her sleeve back to reveal her band.

The boy's eyeballs looked they were going to pop out of their sockets.

Rapunzel gazed at him intently, her mind whirring awake again. She turned on a heel, putting some distance between him and herself.

She was ready to have an alliance again, with the shock of the Tooth's passing – Tooth's sacrifice – fading. But to trust a Career was one thing Eugene had constantly warned her against. But this boy? She supposed he wasn't quite a Career – he was obviously not with the bigger, scarier lot. And he was polite.

'And where's Eugene now?' A resentful voice inside her asked.

Determined she marched back to where her prisoner was, ready to make peace and scandalize world, when her foot caught a net and…

"_Look out!"_

She heard a whizzing sound before finding herself unceremoniously dragged into the air. When her head stopped swimming, she was bewildered to discover that she was now tangled in ropes and hair, five feet above the ground.

"…and that's how you waste a perfectly good dragon trap." The boy's tone had an air of defeat.

A stillness fell as they examined their trapped selves, then each other, then themselves.

She spoke first, "So you said something about it not being the end of the world…"

* * *

**S/N:**

**The Elsa and Jack portion is based on the THG scene where Katniss and Peeta briefly separate and Katniss gets panicky when Peeta doesn't anwer her signal after a cannon is shot.**

**Oh, I forgot to add this: The Snow Queen story that Jack is telling is based on the original Snow Queen story by Hans Christian Anderson.**

**I do have backstory for Shen and Gothel, but it's not really related to this one, and it's sorta disturbing, so I may never write it in. Depends.**

**Hiccup did train a Terrible Terror called Sharpshot in the _Defenders of Berk_ series.**

**Rapunzel's POV is supposed to resemble the 'mood swing scene' in _Tangled_.**

* * *

**A/N: Phew! My exams are coming up, so this is really going to be the last update till I plunge into the work for the next two week. Yay me.**

**This is really one of my longest chapters yet, and honestly not one of my best. Sorry if the quality is crappy, but I've been really tired this week, and all the story parts were written in drips and drabs.**

**Mailbox:**

**Countrygal15: I actually learnt this from the wiki, so I can't take credit. And I just adore Merida and Van! They're a great team.**

**A way to uncreative girl: But the dark side has cookies! And Darth Vader!**

**QueenElsaOfArendelle1:To your 'question', I can only say – muhahahaha!**

**Awsomaniatica: Thanks. I love Toothless, but it's hard to write animals. I think when during planning stages, I only made Merida's dad a victor of a year's game because of his missing leg. Huh.**

**Nightingale82: Glad you liked the glitch explanation – it's pretty important actually. Maybe. Not. I dunno. Apparently talking to self happens to more than just Hiccup… Love your picture, by the way. I love Babs.**

**Maggie: Thanks lots for your really long review! I'm glad you've enjoyed the portrayal of the characters here, though I must warn that their likely to veer into a lot of reflectiveness and moodiness, because – well, the games do stuff to you. I can't like Jelsa, simply because when it comes to ships I'm pretty hardcore canon. So I actually ship Elsa with no one and Jack with no one and Merida with no one etc, though I can be accepting of people shipping them. There are Jelsa-ish moments in this story, and Jack and Elsa will be very close, but romantic relationship will not be promised here. (And even if it were, it doesn't mean happily ever after. This is the Hunger Games). Thanks for reading!**

**Guest: I hope here's some Team J.E. to tide you over. By 'only five', I assume that you're referring to what Honey said when she was dying. I can't say out right (though it's pretty obvious), but it's kinda like she's aware that there could be 'only five' and she didn't want to waste _it_ by keeping _it_ for herself since she was dying, so she gave _it_ away. I hope this is what you were asking about. Thanks for your review!**

**Another Fangirl: Thank you for finally reviewing! Here's a short punzie POV, and I hope it amused you, and some Astrid, though I admit it's not my best writing. For Elsa understanding true love, I can only say…muhahahahaha!**

**Thanks folks! These reviews really make my day. I'm really dropping off now, so… good bye.**

**Review. Ask Question. Critique. Whatever.**


	27. Chapter 26: Into the Open Air

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 26: Into the Open Air

* * *

**Capitol - Underground**

Even as he slid past the grand doors, Eugene couldn't hold back the surge of childish glee. He was famous, popular and wealthy beyond belief, but really? Those really belonged to Flynn Rider, the victor. To the poor orphan Eugene Fizherbert, sneaking around in a terrible disguise was way more fun.

It took him a day or two to gather all the Intel he really needed. He had to call in favors, make new ones, lie and laugh all in one breath, till he found all the pieces to put through his master plan – which was surprisingly simple, given the amount of effort he put into it. It was just walk in, steal the thing, walk out. Easy!

Oh, and if he got caught, not only would Flynn Rider lose all his wonderful victor privileges, he would probably have all his appendages sliced off one by one before his eyes, then have his remaining flesh flayed.

He tried not to dwell on that.

From his 'sources', it was said that of the many vaults beneath of the Capitol, one was a highly restricted archive, only accessible to the innermost circle of the Panem Council and Panem Intelligence. It was alleged to hold highly detailed records of every person in Panem, such as their personality stats, their IQ scores, their social circles records and even fears. These were kept in digital form, since such data was humongous, and its security systems were impenetrable both by hacker and burglar. Digital form was never completely safe, nonetheless, so accordingly hardcopy summaries of records were made.

These were stored in another archive for the access of select ministers and the Gamemakers, still kept under lock and key by the knowledgeable yet deadly strict head-librarian known only as the 'Bookworm'. Fortunately, the Bookworm's secretary was a huge admirer of Flynn Rider, and Flynn Rider had relevant code sequences out of her within minutes.

Getting to the underground was tough on its own. There were millions of Peacekeepers patrolling everywhere, with other officials milling about, but somehow his disguise – a wig of black, a face-full of rouge and a bright purple suit - had managed to pass him off as some secretary running errands for Minister so-and-so.

So here he was now, strolling through the archives, and still not dead. It had been ages since he had stolen even a crust of bread, but he certainly hadn't lost his edge.

Yes. He was pretty full of himself. It happens.

Still, one shouldn't count one's chickens, so Eugene set out to work. Putting on a calm demeanor as he glanced at the towering shelves, pretending to know exactly he was going, his eyes quickly scanning to files lining every column.

His search would have been much faster if he could find the Head-librarian. However, Flynn Rider had met the Bookworm once before at some Capitol party and it would be tempting fate to rush into such an encounter, lest he be recognised.

Fortunately, it was all in alphabetical order, and though he spent almost half an hour staring at all the files beginning with '_CO-_', he finally found what he was looking for.

It was a fairly thin file and it was right behind a wall of lasers. The library was such that if anything was to be removed, it had to be done by a librarian's hand alone – these materials were quite classified after all. However, thanks to his intel, he had already prepared for this.

First, his hand went to his pocket, jabbing one button on the jamming device he had there. When he decided that he had given ample time for the virus to be uploaded via wireless to the nearby cameras, he removed a hollowed metallic circlet from his coat. Carefully, he slid it closer to the laser wall, before tossing it onto the laser surface. The circlet stuck on perfectly and no alarm was sounded.

Discretely glancing about, his hand returned to his pocket again, hitting the second button. The laser shield within hollowed centre of the circlet dissipated, though gleaming green lights still ran around its circumference. The opening into the force field was too small to fit his hand, but again, he had it covered.

From other pocket, he produced a small, sulking reptile that had turned its scaly coat into purple to match his gaudy coat.

"Stop looking so self-righteous. It's not as if you don't steal oranges of my plate," Eugene hissed at the frog-ahem, _chameleon. _

Pascal rolled his eyes in response, staring through half-lids eyes at the uninviting little hole in the force field. His expression could almost be read as '_let's get this over with_.'

The thief raised his little accomplice on his palm just right outside to the opening. The reptile sprang forward, hopping straight through the hollow of the circlet, landing neatly on the shelf. Squeaking nervously, he swiveled to face the man again.

"It should be file 0144.5783COR, on your right," Eugene whispered. There had been a time where he would have died of laughter at the idea of getting Pascal of all peop– um, _creatures_ to help him in 'other jobs', but now he took it in a seriousness. It was still uncanny that the green little guy showed such intelligence.

The reptile nodded, its skin morphing into a new shade to match its surroundings, before it scrambled down the shelf.

It was a good deal of just 'pacing up and down, and keeping a lookout' for the next few minutes. Once or twice, another visitor would pass his row, and he would have to quickly spin away, just in case anyone might see beyond the mask and ask themselves what the Capitol's most fashionable man doing in the Undergrounds.

About a minute later, the reptile came creeping backwards, dragging a file with in his mouth, carefully along the shelf ledge as not to touch the force field.

Checking the number labelled on it, Eugene wanted to whoop in triumph, but for appearance's sake, he could only nod impassively. When Pascal brought the folder to the small circle opening, they came to the next roadblock. The file wouldn't quite fit the circular exit.

Eugene rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, suggesting"Well, could you roll it up?"

Pascal deadpanned, his expression almost asking, _'Do I look like I do origami?' _

Nonetheless, he conceded, using a combination of his front legs and his tails to wrap it up, then carefully sliding it through the circlet. Eugene took his prize and slipped it under his coat quickly. He then stuck his hand out to give the chameleon a platform to jump back on. Letting the creature crawl back in his coat, Eugene flicked the switch on the device in the other pocket, and with a 'pop' the circlet fell of the shield, the lasers filling the hole up again. He caught the circlet, and pocketed it. Checking his surroundings one last time, he made ready to leave the vaults.

On his way out, he passed one of the librarians and though it was instinctive, he resisted the urge to change the direction. His current path was under the clear scrutiny of a row of Peacekeepers, and sudden strange behavior would warrant suspicion.

The librarian fortunately had his head ducked down at that time, comparing numbers on his screen with those on the files. Just as the disguised victor went pass him, the librarian sneezed rather loudly.

The words automatically slipped from Eugene's mouth, his steps slowing as he did. "Hay fever?"

On most days, he would have never contemplated something as terrible as slapping himself – he might bruise his nose, after all. But at the very moment, he was overcome with such an itch strike himself hard and fast for his own stupidity.

"Oh, yeah," the librarian confirmed with an embarrassed grin. But then he looked up and squinted at the brightly-dressed 'official', and Eugene suddenly realized the importance of a hasty exit.

"Never seen a guy in purple before?" He asked rudely, before quickly marching away, leaving the librarian extremely puzzled as he tried to place the voice and face of this mysterious person.

* * *

_How did we let it come to this?_

_What we have tasted we somehow still miss._

* * *

**Capitol - Game Centre**

He wasn't going to lie; right from the start, he wanted Toothiana.

This made little sense on the surface, since the pretty-boy Jack Overland was obviously the one with more sponsor-worthy feature. Jack, whether he liked it or not, was already a teen heartthrob of sorts in District 10, and the Capitol, his 'fandom' size only increased.

But Jack was so…_Jack_. Even in the face of painful and almost certain death, the boy was more caught up in staring at girls, cracking jokes and stuffing his face in ice-cream than paying attention to fight tactics. He was reckless and stubborn: caring too much about enjoying the present, listening to his heart, and other nonsense most teenagers love trapping themselves in.

But Toothiana was like a candle; small, yet bright and steady. She was smart, steady and sweet all wrapped in a body. She was a good kid, with too much love and too little luck. She never got half the attention that Jack did, yet in the eyes of both District 10 mentors, she had twice his character.

It was on a bad lot that E. Aster Bunnymund - the youngest victor of District 10 who by now was hitting his late-thirties - had landed Jack Overland as his mentee. _Hurrah._

Being unhappy with the allocation didn't translate into being an irresponsible mentor. Oh, no, he had set up Jack's 'playboy parade' - even though the boy had expressed much reluctance; he had negotiated with sponsors, and even other mentors; he had made sure that the boy was kept in relatively good health throughout the Games. But none of this erased the fact that Bunnymund liked Tooth better of the two.

Oh, and she was dead now. No thanks to his mentee.

Bunnymund knew that he was being unreasonable; the boy didn't deserve the burden of the blame. He didn't know. But that growing anger in the older man's soul was so great that he was practically bursting to the seams in his wrath. So he directed it to the boy; because the boy deserved some admonition, and perhaps because he couldn't hit back.

The gray-haired man with triangle-shaped tattoes – he called them warrior marks - had been staring at the holographic screen on his table all morning. The television playing live stream of the Games in the background, and empty coffee cups sat around, both from last night till sunrise. He simply watched as the numbers in the display roll higher and higher each second. Jack Overland's sponsors were indeed as numerous as the sands.

"Ah, Bunny! You are up already. That is good. "

The addressed grunted, rolling his eyes. Ever since the boy had given him that nickname, everyone had been using it on him. If it wasn't that North was twice his weight and strength, Bunnymund would have punched the daylights out him long ago.

"North," he greeted the larger man gruffly without turning around.

The good-humored man took him sour attitude lightly, giving hearty chuckle in its place. Still, his question was grave, "How be'd the Games now?"

"The last death was a kid from nine. Nothing since then," Bunnymund reported flatly, his eyes flitting briefly to the television, before returning to appraise the new set of digits across the screen. When the funds had climbed another ten thousand, maybe he might be able to send the boy a weapon. Not that he deserved it.

Clicking of locks and a heavy sigh from North drew Bunnymund's attention from the numerals for a moment. He then was surprised to find the muscular man holding a suitcase, a tired grief filling his usually bright blue eyes. His own brown ones widened. "Ye leavin' mate?"

"Yes, I am," the elder man answered in his deep voice that was supposed be warm and welcoming, but now only sounded hollow. He gazed at the luxurious décor that cluttered that single lounge. "This place, yes, it is pleasant - is it not? – to _stay_, but only for a short time. Ah! But to be _home_ \- that is far better."

Home. Yes, they were victors. They could go home: gohome for another year, before the Capitol summoned them to butter up a new pair of children for another year of Hunger Games. And too often, they'd return home, without the children.

The younger man grimaced. "Tooth will never go home."

"Indeed, she will not." The other man's face turned greyer, which sounded impossible, given how white his hair and beard all were. But years of sadness took its toll on the compassionate soul who only sought wonder in this world.

In one of his friend's fist, Bunnymund spotted a small silver chain, with a tooth pendant hanging off it. "It will be my duty to inform her loved-ones, though they already know."

This cause Bunnymund to prick his ears with interest. "Her parents - both workers in the coops, right?"

North nodded, as he regretfully slipped the simple token into his waist pocket. "She has a few younger sisters too, if I'm not mistaken."

The leaner mentor's lips formed a thin line, as he grimly returned his pointless staring at the soaring numbers. He had to pick the gift carefully though – something that only the boy knew how to use, lest he had end up donating it to his ally again. Bunnymund made no pretense that he was uncomfortable with his mentee's chosen alliance. Mutants disturbed him as much as it did the rest of the Capitol, and he couldn't shake off the notion that the ice girl was merely using the smitten boy for her own ends. Not that she could truly be blamed. The Hunger Games did things to people; he would know that too well.

"You know, Jack has kin too."

Bunnymund jerked up, immediately turning to the towering man, raising an eyebrow.

North's expression did not change. "He has a mother, and a younger sister. I believe you watched his interview yourself."

"Yes," the other man reluctantly replied. "We were in the audience, and I wanted to pummel him for all the stupid things he was doing, remember?"

North chortled slightly, but he didn't veer off topic. Instead, he gazed intently into the eyes of his part-rival, part-friend. "I know you have unresolved differences with the boy, and it has led you to do something's that were not good at all."

Bunnymund had enough of a conscience to turn crimson at the frank reproach, but North was not done.

"Yet, my good Bunny, try not to forget that that is all he is: a boy. He may make stupid decisions, and he may make mistakes, but so did you when you were no older and I was your mentor." With his huge hand, the bearded man gave him a firm squeeze on the shoulder, which would have made Bunnymund wince if he didn't have so many years to get used to it. "He is a boy, and he is afraid. Give him guidance, and maybe one of the children can go home this year."

North often masqueraded as a fun-loving, crazy and absolutely eccentric old man who loved nothing more than building toys, but deep in his heart Bunnymund perceived great compassion for the young and hope despite trial and sorrow.

_Hope_. That Bunnymund could truly respect.

With a friendly slap on the back which sent the younger mentor hurling forward with an 'oomphf', North laughed one last time before he headed the elevator. Rubbing his sore back, Bunnymund cast a glance in that direction, just in time to see his fellow victor give him a slight salute as the door's clammed shut.

When Bunnymund turned back to the holographic screen, his heart had been emptied of its bitterness and was replaced with new resolve. North's words had spoken to him, and he found his heart changing. He still bore some grudge against the Overland boy, but it was a good deal less. In a matter, he suddenly felt a terrific drive to _help_ this boy – to _protect_ this boy. To be his guardian. To send him home.

The funds available now were very huge and Bunnymund was almost certain he could buy anything for the boy very moment, but he focused on the weapons. There were big, heavy metallic ones, and some small yet efficient ones, but Bunnymund dismissed them instantly. These were no weapons for a shepherd boy.

When he finally found what he was looking for, he tapped on screen immediately, sending to the request for a gift to the Game Centre. While pending approval, he found himself praying silently to himself. If it were accepted, he would be able to attach a message to it. This time he would not inject his bitterness, but instead infuse it hope.

Bunnymund was shackled with much uncertainty, but despite it all, he chose to believe. For now his hopes rested truly and entirely with the tall, lanky brown-haired boy from his district.

* * *

_How will it feel when the day is done?_

_And can we keep what we've only begun?_

* * *

**Summer Quarter **

"That's it! That's the one I fought."

The bony boy from District 2 – whose name literally meant 'involuntary spasm from diaphragm' – paused from his current activity to glance at his blonde companion. She was resting comfortably against the flat of a stone, her wet loose cords of hair spread over all the grass in the cove, her head reclined as she flipped through the Muttation Manual. She seemed remarkably relaxed, compared to yesterday night when she spent an unhealthy amount of time freaking out at the black reptile that shared their private hideout.

"What was it?" He asked, both out of curiosity and politeness. Moving some of her hair away from her current spot he lay his latest catch of fish on the grass before him, all in a row. He then sat himself down, crossing his legs.

"It's called a Gronckle, apparently, and it _is_ ugly. Oh dear."

"Ah." Hiccup nodded, before turning to his spread. By now, he had read the Mutt Manual quite thoroughly. Every single beast, no matter how obscure, had been studied intently till he knew the facts at the back of his hand. After all, at least a quarter of the beasts listed were dragons, and they were stuck in the Summer Quarter.

_They_ – him and his ally of seventy feet worth of hair. Who'd thought he'd actually nail an ally after all? Of course, the armband apparently played a role, but he was still quite confused about that….

The girl – Rapunzel was her name - started reading the description out loud herself, so he tuned out, focusing on his task. A simple, initially terrifying, currently puzzling, routine.

As usual, a black blur burst before him, sniffing guardedly at the offering, giving the first a tentative lick. As usual, the dragon proceeded to gorge himself, not stopping until every piece had disappeared. As usual, Hiccup stuck his hand out, hoping that for once this grand beast would relent and let him just touch the head once – just _once_! And as usual, the beast angled itself out of the way in time, growling vehemently but not threateningly, before gliding away.

Most people would have given up by now, but when you've faced as much rejection as Hiccup had, you'd learn what it means to be obnoxiously persistent.

In the background, he heard Rapunzel mention something about 'drawing', 'pretty good', and then she asked him abruptly, "Hey, is this your girlfriend?"

_Wait, what on-_

He almost jumped out of his skin, hopping off the grass, facing the blonde. Seeing that she had his attention, she lifted the book from her lap, holding it towards him, then tapping the sketch of his childhood crush with her index fringe.

It came rushing back to him. The second night in the Arena, when he had been home sick and scared, and he started drawing people from his home. Apparently, _she_ was part of it too.

Whether it was embarrassment or fear, Hiccup wasn't sure, but before he knew it, he was darting over to the blonde's side, snatching the book away and blabbing incomprehensible denials. The district 8 girl giggled at his beetroot face and stammered words. Far away the watching dragon too express his amusementwith a low _hum-hum-hum_.

"Oh, quiet," Hiccup told the dragon across the lake off pointedly. He snorted disparagingly, before settling himself down on the grass, resting his head on his front legs.

"So, who is she?" Rapunzel inquired, apparently not trying to look so entertained by the exchange.

Hiccup hid a rush of relief; she didn't recognize Astrid as the axe-wielding representative of District 2. Maybe there was some good from tributes not trying to know other tributes better. "Um, she's-um-no one-"

His ally eyed the traitorous book that he clutched to his chest. "Oh?"

"Yep, she's," Hiccup gabbed hurriedly, racking his brains, "she's an _imaginary person_?"

Yep. Give him top prize for worst excuse ever on the Earth.

"With such detail, I have a hard time believing that," remarked Rapunzel, cocking her to a side with a sly grin making him flush even more. Sniggering again, she held her hand out towards him in a sign of peace. "Alright, I won't tease anymore."

Creasing his brow in suspicion, he returned the book to the girl, who immediately flipped it open. He settled down on a stone across her, using the knife she had entrusted to him to carve himself a new water bottle. The girl had declined when he had offered to make her one, since she had her own. In a matter of fact, she was quite well-stocked in her supplies. These, she had revealed reluctantly, were her rewards from stealing from careers.

They had into amicable terms after they had managed to free themselves from the bonds yesterday - and without harming a single hair too. However, he had known that she was still extremely distrustful towards him – she had waited for him to take first drink, first bite, first step, before doing the same. He couldn't help feeling that he wouldn't have been under such close inspection if he didn't have the dreadful digit on his coat.

Eager had he been to shed any lingering Career-related judgements in his ally's mind, he had taught her everything that he had learnt about the quarter: the food, the water sources and especially the muttations. And of course, he invited her to cove, showing her how to feel for the circle engraving on the wall, how to slide their bands into that hole and entering - she had been really fascinated by that. Of Toothless, she had been terrified even though the dragon was as docile as a lamb – well, _snarling, fire-breathing_ lamb. To prove so, he demonstrated to her some dragon training tricks; the fish-feeding and light-shining.

On a side-note, Toothless had been very distrustful towards Rapunzel at first, but then he started shown very, very positive interest in some grass blades that had been sticking in her blonde cords, and the tension was eased. As a follow-up, Hiccup had noted the appearance of these grasses and location that blonde had attained them from. He had suggested gathering more of the 'dragon nip' as another protection measure, and she had agreed that they'd do it today - _after_ she gave her hair a thorough rinse.

And of course, he had lent her the book - which he had entirely forgotten was _full of his own sketches_. He hoped that she would ignore them now, but by how much she seemed to enjoying reading right now, he'd rather doubt it.

After staring at the golden hairs for a while, a strange thought came to mind. Without meaning to, he blurted out,

"Is the hair heavy?"

She turned to him, a startled expression on her face. "Well, yeah," she admitted.

He continued, "It must be hard carrying it around loose like that. Plus running and everything." He hastily added.

She hesitated slightly, as if afraid of revealing a weakness. "Well, I don't have a choice. It's-it's pretty much my key to survival."

He didn't notice her fiddling with the jeweled sun-brooch on her sleeve, and if he did, it meant nothing to him. "Do you mind if, um, I braided it?"

He winced at the added incredulity she bore. It must have sounded really creepy. "I just think, um, I have an idea to solve your agility problem."

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity and his awkwardness climbing each second. Finally, she said, "Err, okay?"

That was progress, right? She was willing to give him a chance, so maybe she was starting to trust him, so …that's good?

He dropped the half-made water bottle on the stone, scrambling behind her where the rivers of gold begun. She had fortunately combed them out into separate locks, so his job was a teeny bit easier. He wasn't exactly a hair expert, but he really wanted to help her and show her how much he could help. For that reason, he sincerely hoped that he wouldn't screw it up. He didn't know much about girls, but he reasoned that if one kept her hair that long, she had to love it a lot. Mess with it, and she might decide to drown him in the cove lake. It was a lot deeper than the stream they had met at.

He did a waterfall braid first – a vertical braid that lined her crown. Then, he proceeded to gather up the rest of her hair, dividing them into six lengths, where the outer two were the thinnest. The centre four he begun to twist into a simple french braid. Dealing with such long locks wasn't easy though, and he found himself tripping over and over as he put cord over another.

In the corner of his eye, he caught Toothless' jeering expression.

"You never had to do this, so cut it," he snapped at the creature.

"Cut _what_?" The girl jumped, peering over her shoulder, frightened.

"Oh, just talking to Toothless again. Don't worry."

Rapunzel seemed rather uneasy, but after a while she turned back, trusting him again that he wasn't about to snip of her glorious locks. He wondered why she'd care so much, but then – _girls_.

There was a strained silence, before the girl queried, "So…why 'Toothless'?"

Before he knew it, he was describing to the blonde all his misadventures with the Night Fury, from the shooting down the creature to the mutual non-kill agreement they had shakily come to.

"I don't get it, though," Hiccup confessed her, "he's supposed to be furious at me for shooting him down, and fraying his tail fin, but he didn't – hasn't kill me. Then he's been licking my wounds" -he showed her the fainted gnashes on his arms – "but he doesn't let me touch him. It's like he can't make up his mind about me."

"Maybe he really can't," Rapunzel contemplated aloud. Pausing for a moment to ponder further, she then elaborated, "He must find you pretty confusing too – like how you've hurt him, but you've spared his life. Then you're scared of him, but you still want to reach out to him. Even to me, you're a -" she uncomfortably chewed on her lip as she sough an adjective.

"-dweeb?" He supplied, gazing down at his aching hands as they continued their endlessly twining. Her hair was really a handful.

"-mystery."

There was a break as Hiccup tried to absorb this. There was a short break as Hiccup tried to absorb this. "Mystery. Huh."

"I mean, you're from District 2, but you're not quite like what – what my mentor had described. You do things quite differently. _Very_ differently, even compared to other tributes."

That jarred him a little. "Thanks, I think?"

Another silence fell, as he was reaching the ends of her streams of hair. Then, her clear voice broke in, "I bet he had some really bad experiences with humans."

"Who?"

"Toothless." She nodded at the sitting dragon across the cove, who was staring at the clouds above with huge, longing eyes.

His hands stopped their work. "What makes you say that?"

"You see those cuts? Those on his neck. Were they from you?"

His gaze followed her pointed finger, and he found an array of fading but definitely painful scars where the blonde had described. The nylon nets from the bola could never cut that deep, so he shook his head.

"I thought so." Rapunzel nodded, a grim frown appearing on her lips. "And if what you said about dragons living in the wilds and stuff is true, I bet the Gamemakers didn't create Toothless. I bet he was captured, put through some kind of horrid torture programming, then stuck in here." She made a sympathetic noise. "Poor guy."

Hiccup glanced up sharply at the blonde, then back at the Night Fury. He could imagine the beast stretching out its ebony wings, zooming into the skies, going where no one went, slowing for none – then shot down and forced to become a play prop in the Arena. A free and mighty creature, to be dragged to such depths of humiliation. Kinda of like what he had done, except more dramatic and devastating.

As he bundled the ends of the yellow strands together, he found himself voicing his inner most thoughts, "I wish I could fix his tail."

Rapunzel gazed at him with surprise, then back at the now snoozing dragon. The frayed black membrane of its tail fin stood out against the green grass.

"So that he can fly again?" she asked, as she met his eyes again.

"So he can have his dignity," he told her with an odd firmness that sounded strange in his usually squeaky voice. "If only I had some kind of 'healing powers', but," he gave a grim smile, "no way I'm gonna get any of that anytime soon."

Rapunzel gave him a very strange look: a mixture of discomfort and hesitancy. "No," she said slowly, "I guess not."

Quickly – abruptly, Hiccup felt, - she changed the topic. "So, are you going to tell me why you helped do a braid without weaving in these parts?" She gestured the two unbraided golden cords that flanked the thick plait.

"Oh, um..." He puzzled over this for a while, before trying to explain his design to her.

* * *

_Could these walls come tumbling down?_

_I want to feel my feet on the ground._

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"A _what_?"

"A constitutional democracy," the little girl repeated, as she gazed intently in the water, arching her back forward for a better view. A bold trout snuck past her legs and she lunged at it, only to slip on the wet stones below and crashed in the brook with an ungraceful splash.

Her elder companion took a scan of the area before daring a chuckle. When the preteen emerged from the cool waters, she spat out a mouthful of water before glaring at the unsympathetic redhead.

"_Oh_, you should" - a snicker - "_really_" -another snicker. Merida couldn't continue simply because she was too busy cackling her head off, clutching her sides as she did. The foolish jostling of her bandaged left arm was chastised with a surge of pain again, but she dismissed it in favor laughing some more.

Vanellope murmured a tirade of expletives ungraciously, as she picked her drenched body shakily of the river bed, sitting herself up.

The wicked grin on the twelve-year-old's face warned Merida far too late before she felt something kick against her feet, forcing her to topple back, creating a resounding smack against the water surface. The girl hooted in victory, until her companion quickly shushed her, whispering, "Listen."

They both stilled, their breaths sounding heavy and loud against the silence of the forest and the gentle gurgle of the stream. Another glance around confirmed that there were no intruders, and in a second they had returned to their frivolities.

"Whoa, Frizzles, what did the water do to your _frizzles_?"

The red head parted the straightened red strands draped before her eyes like parting a curtain, her blue eyes narrowing on the younger girl. "They're _curls_. Not frizzles."

"You want me to call you 'Curly'?" was the sharp retort.

Merida chewed on her lip in thought. "You have a point there."

Both girls tried to get back on their feet, giggling whenever the other slipped back on the creek bed. When she was standing once more, Merida squeezed the water from her strangely straight hair, before struggling with the strap of her quiver. However, the combined weight of her soaked cast and the water in the quiver left her efforts fruitless.

"Sweet mother of monkey milk," she heard the other girl sigh.

Vanellope immediately went to her side, gesturing for her to bend lower, then helping her lift the straps over her head, to which she gave a thankful huff.

"I still think it's stupid that you insist on carrying this around everywhere when you can't even shoot in your invalid state," the shorter girl complained, as she grabbed the arrows by the handful, before tipping the quiver and emptying out the water.

"Can't risk anyone getting hold of it. I told you dozens of times," Merida answered, annoyed but not hateful. When Vanellope returned the quiver, she was able to sling it over her torso with greater ease, thanks to the lightened load. "Could you check the bow?"

Vanellope raise her brow. "It's water-proof."

"You might have fallen on it. Make sure you didn't splinter it or something."

The girl grudgingly removed the bow hanging off her own shoulder and gave it a quick examination. Watching the lack of delicacy Vanellope had while handling her beloved weapon, Merida winced at the memory of how the lass had insisted on trying the bow herself, only to somehow end up shoot her arrows backwards – which was indeed very strange. As a master of her craft, it had been very painful to watch.

When the girl had strapped back the fortunately undamaged bow, Merida urged her to continue, "You were saying something about a-a..." The exact phrase still escaped her.

"_Con-sti-tuit-ion-al De-mo-cra-cy."_

She scowled at the younger girl, who repaid it with a haughty smirk. "You don't need to be so condescending, you know."

"Why would I do that?" Vanellope replied with mock innocence, as she rolled back her soaked jacket sleeves. "I'm just, _y'know_, doin' good deeds, helping a _floss-brained_ friend learn new words. Now, a constitution is-"

"I know what constitution is, so cut your jabber and just tell me what this 'democracy' is already," Merida snapped, her eyes dropping to the water swishing around her shins, partly to watch for any passing fish, partly to hide her stricken face at the use of 'friend'.

_Friend. _Could they be friends?

They had known each other only for a day, not counting their earlier meeting pre-Games. But it was hard not to click; two ridiculously irritable tomboys with unhealthily rebellious attitudes. Here, they splashed about in the stream like the madcaps they were, ignoring the gore and bloodlust that their Capitol masters demanded from them.

"Fine, fine, keep your frizzies on," Vanellope said, taking no notice of the deadpan the elder girl gave her. "A democracy is a system where the public get to choose their leader –usually a president."

"...that has to be the daftest thing I've ever heard of."

"Well, sorry for having a unique and open mind," retorted Vanellope, dripping with sarcasm, but no malice.

"So let me get this straight." Merida still struggled with this foreign concept in her mind, while her hand over the water surface, trying to subtly follow the swishes and swerves off an unsuspecting trout. "In your little 'dream kingdom'-"

Correction was immediate. "Constitutional Democracy."

"Fine, constitutional democra-_cy!_" Merida had leaned forward in attempt to catch the fish, but it slipped from her grip at the last moment. "Jings," she muttered unhappily, before getting back on track. "So, in your little dream _constitutional democracy_, you will be the _President_ of a bunch of _go-kart racers_, and everyone of you would drive in cars made of _chocolate wafers_ through _candy-cane_ trees and hills made of _cream frosting_?"

"Hey, my imaginary dream world." The girl jabbed Merida's shoulder with her index finger, almost knocking the older girl over again. "I can do whatever I want."

"Candy-cane trees? Frosting hills?"

"Don't forget the chocolate puddles and gummy rocks. They're awesome."

"They're _diabetic._ Isn't this a little overkill?"

The little girl shook her head. "I've eaten candy only once in my life, but I'm pretty sure I could live it for the rest of my life."

Merida paused from her fishing hunting, pushing back her dripping red hair to stare at her companion. "You'd be only eaten candy once in your life?"

"Before the Capitol, yeah. It was the best thing I've ever tasted."

She couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. As mayor's daughter, Merida had lacked little, and luxuries such as candy was relatively affordable. She could barely count the number of times she had stuffed her face with licorice, peppermint and chocolates thoughtlessly, but how many kids had she seen staring longingly through the glass of the sweetshop, craving for nothing but a lick of the goodies she had?

Kids like Vanellope, who built themselves candy-castles in the air.

"Aha!" The girl in focus cried out, her hands pulling out of the water to reveal the fish she had snagged. Grinning widely, she showed her catch off to her companion. "I believe that's score one for Team Vanellope."

"What, there's a contest now?" Merida made an exaggerated scoff, which made the girl smirk cockily. When a wonderful idea struck the redhead. "Alright, I'll play. On one condition; loser cleans the fish."

"Deal!" Vanellope agreed at once, but the minute she had spun around, Merida gave her shove, plunging her back into the water again.

Spluttering, the girl shot at her a look of astonished rage.

"Sweet vengeance, l'il lassie," Merida taunted, an evil smile tugging the corners of her lips. She cocked her head to a side, faking concern. "_Aww_, is the _wee babe_ gon'na cry?"

Half-furious, half-laughing, Vanellope shot to her feet, holding her fish out like a blade at the redhead. "_En garde_, _Madama Flossie-Mane_!"

Merida chortled in response, picking up a stick floating by, then slapping it against Vanellope's fish. "_Have at thee_, _Lady Short-stuff!_"

"Stop making fun of my height!"

"Then stop making fun of my hair!"

"Y'know you still have zero fish, right? So you're gonna have to - hey! Give me back my fish! Bullying a child! Shame on you!"

The laughter from Merida's lips were nothing compared to the bubbling joy and warmth that simmered within her soul, as she ran with the stolen trout in under her right arm, the imp of a kid giving chase. They were a pair of crazy girls, thrashing like idiots in the middle of a brook, having the time of their life, pretending as if there life itself wasn't teetering unsteadily on the edge.

Hang the Games. Hang the Capitol. No bonds could hold down spirits that flew so freely.

* * *

_And leave behind this prison we share,_

_Step into the open air._

* * *

**S/N: **

**Featuring 'Into the Open Air' by Julie Fowlis, from **_**Brave**_**. The arrangement of lyrics are not necessary completely identical to the song. I'm not above song-fic writing, so sorry if you hate this style.**

**From Flynn's POV, can anyone guess where the 'head-librarian' is from? **

**Toothless does have a large scar on his neck. Most people say it's from Hiccup's net, but for this story, it won't be so. **

**Yes, Vanellope's dreamworld is essentially Sugar Rush. And the scene between Merida and her is based on the Into the Open Air scene.**

**This is quite a tame chapter, but necessary. **

**It's a new day in the Arena, so some recaps in case:**

**Death Recap:**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**6 - Taffyta**

**7 - Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno**

**9 - Nameless Boy, Nameless Girl**

**10 – Toothiana**

**Remaining Players**

**1 - Gothel, Shen**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup**

**3 - Hiro**

**4 - Dagur**

**5 - Merida**

**6 - Turbo**

**7 - Male Stabbington**

**8 - Rapunzel**

**10 - Jack**

**11 - Vanellope, Ralph**

**12 - Elsa, Hans**

**Known Alliances (&amp; my l'il names for them)**

**The Careers: Gothel, Shen, Astrid, Dagur**

**Team J.E.: Jack, Elsa**

**The Dark Team: Turbo, Male Stabbington - Alliance Status Uncertain**

**Team Wildchilds - Merida, Vanellope**

**Team Arthouse – Hiccup, Rapunzel **

**Metal Band Band (I won't be changing this much, but this is just a reminder)**

**Hiro - 2 bands**

**Jack**

**Rapunzel**

**Hiccup (Hiro doesn't know, and Hiccup still doesn't get it.)**

**Next Chapter: Things have been pretty tame so far, so expect more action in the next chappie.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Exam period = Short notes + Short Replies**

**Mailbox: **

**QueenElsaofArendelle: Sorry to keep you waiting! I really try, but yeah…life. All the main alliances are already here, so there won't be any big changes for a while.**

**WarriorQueen 14: There were a lot of typos in the prev. chappie, wasn't there? Sorry about that. Think this one might have some too. Oh dear… TBH, I would say that Jack and Elsa's relationship isn't completely platonic, but compared to all the hardcore Jelsa fics out there…I suppose it is. I'm glad you liked Rap's mood swing. I would say that she was just trying to practical about (trying to) kill Hiccup, not because she was really vicious. Of course, her moral sense kind of interrupts her in many forms… thanks for reviewing!**

**That one evil girl: Thanks for your well-wishes! I hope I survive too – if not there'd be no more story. Guess we all live our own Hunger Games. **

** : Thank you for reviewing! Glad you liked it.**

**Waveringshadow: Wow! Thanks for the bunch of reviews. I loved reading them. Yes, Flynn/Eugene is definitely Finnick, and full honesty, I actually like him better as character than Rapunzel – I'm not sure why, but maybe it's the wise-cracks. And YES! My parents stare everytime I say 'httyd' and it's embarrassing to have to the say the full name after that. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story that's coming!**

**Maggietheawesome: I have looked up Jelsa fanart and read a few Jelsa fics, but so far not converted. *shrugs* Maybe someday, maybe not. Maybe I'm just stubborn, so…oops. Glad you enjoyed the chappie and thanks for reviewing.**

**Obsidian Buterfly: Thanks for noting the parallels (because I seriously can get headaches by thinking them up), and trust me, more of the parallel gets obvious as the story progresses. I've actually watched Mockingjay Part 1 already, because I've the read all the books so I know the ending and stuff – and seriously, the film is way better than the book (mostly for the mockingjay). You know who's gon'na die? How could this be? I thought I was so insanely creative that… (Checks at list of characters) Okay, there aren't many options are there? Really glad that you like the various POVs, and Hans… he's interesting to work with, and he may be slightly different in this story, because in the AU, well… his motivations are different. Thank you so much for your review/essay! It made my day.**

**Awsomaniatica: I felt that out of the 5 characters, the two most suspectible to self-blame are actually Jack and Elsa, and that moment was supposed to be a bit reminiscent on Jack goes all moody after Easter gets ruined in ROTG. Heh, the sun going down idea is actually very true (it totally happened, because a day has passed between this chapter and the last, so yeah). I love conflicted characters a lot, so hopefully I won't make all of them talk to themselves.**

**Thanks reading and reviewing! Need to run and study for exams now. Ciao.**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	28. Chapter 27: Shift to Insanity

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 27: Shift to Insanity

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

It had started as such a beautiful day. Her hair had gotten washed and done up, with the help of her new frien_-um_, ally. Hiccup had braided a central braid to hold most of her hair of the ground, which reduced the mobility hindrance. He had however left the two free cords near the side of her head to coil around each arm, which she could continue to use as whip and lasso as she had previously done. To that, she had been much grateful, and had expressed it so enthusiastically much to the embarrassment of the awkward boy. In the afternoon, they had gone fishing – mostly to feed Toothless - in the Summer Quarter. Somehow or another, she had ended up aiding him in his construction of dragon traps. While she hadn't completely agree with his 'anti-kill' sentiments towards the reptilian mutts, she had admired and respected the thought he had put into his non-lethally effective and effectively non-lethal designs.

As the sun crept closer and closer to the west of the Arena though, that was when -

"Run!"

Rapunzel glanced up from the ropes she had been tying at that moment to see a frantic boy dashing her way.

"What's happening?" she yelled, shocked by how flustered he looked.

"The end of the world!" Hiccup declared, as he yanked from her spot and dragged her behind him. As they stumbled over rock and weed, the blonde shot a glance behind her. Sure enough, there was a huge tidal wave pouring in behind them, gushing and rushing towards the fleeing duo.

"Where on Earth did that come from?" she had to screech over the unholy clamour.

"It's called 'W.I.I.'," he shouted back.

"Wii? Isn't that some kind of playstation thingy?"

" No! '_Writer's Insane Imagination_!' He explained the abbreviation quickly, as they scampered through the wilds together. "And I don't exactly think playstations exist in our universe! I mean, this is all about some dystopian future with random kids killing each other for a TV program, right?"

The blonde stared at him blankly.

He sighed. "Nevermind."

They had gone about a hundred kilometers - which makes no sense, given how the Arena was an enclosed place that, and how much resources that had to go into building such a structure, and that 2/5ths of our protagonists are very much mortals incapable of completing such a feat.

"Why aren't we dead from exhaustion?" The blonde asked her companion.

He shrugged as they skidded down pebbly slope with as much grace as … people who didn't have grace. "It's that special immunity power that all main characters have."

Rapunzel blinked.

Hiccup elaborated, gesturing as he did, "You know, the one that somehow keeps them from dying even though all odds are against them and real life they would have actually died."

She blinked again. And again. And again. Because it's an instinctive reflex for a human to blink. And it's _her_ eyelid, so _why can't she just blink whenever she wants_?

The author decided that she had best cease writing this portion before she begun delving into the ethics of nuanced eyelid behavior, and get back to the 2/5th of protagonists that are still running away from a strange wave that couldn't possibly have appeared out of nowhere for no rhyme or reason.

Even the Gamemakers weren't that ridiculous.

"You know what? This is pointless," Hiccup remarked. "Eventually the wave is gonna catch up with us and wash us up."

He halted his running, and Rapunzel followed suit, because somehow her sensibilities were bought over by the nihilism contained within that single sentence.

"So what now?" she asked. "Sit here and wait for our imminent deaths?"

He shrugged again, because somehow the author's vocabulary is so limited that she cannot throw out another verb that conveys the same amount of resignation. "Yeah, okay."

So both of them just dropped themselves to the ground, facing the incoming tide, waiting for the end.

And the author got bored of writing this section, so she decides to leave the heroes to stare at that death in the face a little while longer while she drops a line break.

* * *

**Some Other Universe**

The author opened her window. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. The birds were singing.

It was a horrible day.

She picked up a long one-dimensional object that happened to be broken right in its centre – named aptly 'line-break' - then shoved it out of her window. She lived pretty high up, so she was given the pleasant viewing of the line-break falling all the way down as gravity had dictating.

Slapping her hands together in satisfaction, she returned to her electronic device to continue penning insanity.

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

"Can I say something crazy?"

Elsa scrutinized the brunette boy's excited expression. Uncertainly, she answered, "Okay…"

Clearing his throat, Jack began to sing, "_All my life has been a series of doors in my face-"_

"No! No!" She clamped a hand over his mouth, only removing it when he stopped. "You can't _sing."_

He appeared slightly hurt. "Why not?"

"You're a Dreamworks character." She said it as if explained everything.

"What's supposed to mean?" He cried indignantly.

"You guys don't-_can't_ _sing_."

Jack deadpanned. "Um, singing in _Madagascar? Shrek? How to Train Your Dragon 2?"_

"Anomalous. And those aren't real musical numbers."

"One of our earliest films was musical!" He countered, "And we nailed the Academy's for Best Original Song so - " he smirked triumphantly "-ha!"

She shot a questioning look. " '_Ha_'? Your comeback is 'Ha'?"

"Couldn't think of better one," he ruefully admitted, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "It's kinda a scripting problem."

Elsa raised a brow.

Jack began to explain "Like sometimes I say snarky stuff in the film, and other times I just spew…awkwardness. Like you know," he fumbles a moment while trying to remember his strange quotes, " _'My name is Jack Frost, and I'm Guardian. How do I know that? Because the moon told me so. And the moon tells you something, you better believe it.'_ " He chuckled half-awkwardly, half-shamefacedly. "Not exactly most quotable quote in the year."

There was a pause.

"I sang an award-winning song that is played so many times that it has continued to thrill and annoy millions over the world in over thirty languages till today."

"That…doesn't make me feel better."

There was an awkward silence as the duo stared awkwardly at each other, then awkwardly at their surroundings. Then awkwardly at each other again. Then awkwardly they shifted in their seats. And because the author is annoying, she decides to repeat the word 'awkward' a dozen times.

Awkward. _Awkward_. **Awkward**. Awwwwkkkkwwwaaarrrrdddd. Aaaaawwwkward. Awkwaaaaard. AWKward. AwkWARD. AWKWARD. AWKWArd. aawwwkkkward. **Awwww-kwwwwwaaaa-rd.**

Okay, done.

Apparently this is all very awkward, so the author decided to - for inexplicable reasons - open a huge hole in the earth beneath the two.

"What on-" The blonde's surprise turned to horror as she realized the lack of ground beneath her feet.

"What the heck happened?" Jack exclaimed, staring downwards, both terrified and fascinated.

"It appears that we must be experiencing some kind of dimensional manipulatio-"

The author decided that gravity would do its work to drag the two tributes down the pit into endless nothing and they would never stop falling until to reach a strange place with weird cakes, talking rabbits, and an annoying fancy-pants lady who liked beheading people.

Whatever.

_Next!_

* * *

**Summer Quarter **

"So we're still here?"

"Yep."

Rapunzel stared at the tidal wave that was still rushing towards them, but somehow it hadn't got around killing them. She turned to the auburn-haired boy who was lying on the grass, idly gazing at the blaring red sky abode them. Why it was red still escaped them.

"So we're just gon'na sit around here and wait some more?" she asked once more, fiddling with her hair.

"Yep."

The duo just lazed around, while death took its time to… _I don't know - crash _them_? Smash _them_? Bash _them_? Lash _them_? Mash _them_? _

'-ash' has quite a number destruction-related words.

_Next!_

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"Merida, what are you doing?" Vanellope suddenly asked the taller girl.

The redhead stared her. "What I am doing?"

"What _are _you doing?"

"What _am _I doing?"

Rising an octave - "_What are you doing!_"

Hitting _fortissimo _-"_What am I doing!"_

"WHAT _ARE_ YOU DOING?"

"WHAT _AM_ I DOING?"

"WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING?"

"WHAT AM _I_ DOING?"

_"__WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_

_"__WHAT AM I DOING?"_

There was a uncomfortable pause as both girls tried to gather their breaths after straining their lungs. When Vanellope finished coughing and spitting the phlegm stuck in her throat, she pointed dramatically at the berries that Merida had just plucked off a bush. "Those are Nightlock, Merida! They'd kill you in a second!" She waved her arms around, screaming dramatically.

Merida appeared unperturbed by the little display, or if anything, maybe just a little peeved. "These are nightshade, lass. Night_shade_."

Vanellope frowned. "Night_lock_."

_"Shade."_

_"Lock."_

_"Shade."_

"_Lock_. This is a Hunger Games Universe. It's THG lingo in territory."

"_Shade_. And it takes about five seconds to kill. "

The smaller girl scoffed at this. "That's ridiculous."

"Well, let's test the theory then." With that said, the redhead popped the berries in her mouth.

"NOOOOOO!" Vanellope cried out in horror, flailing her arms around, but it was too late.

A second passed.

Five seconds passed.

A minute passed.

Then a million years passed, and of course the girls would have died by then. So, it wouldn't really matter anymore.

Okay! Fine…

_Reversing a million years minus one minute:_

"Merida, you're still alive. "

"Ye don't say, lass."

Both girls put their heads together, squinting at the berries that Merida held in her palm.

"So, not Nightlock or Nightshade, huh?"

The redhead shrugged. "Eh. Who cares. Want one? Tastes like blackberries."

The smaller girl took her up on the offer and both began gulping down berries by the dozens. So absorbed were they in chewing that they didn't notice the creak of wood behind them, or the squawking birds as they flew off their falling home, or the huge tree which happened to fall on them.

And by 'not noticing', I meant that they couldn't notice that the tree fell on them because they were, well, _dead_. By then at least.

Savvy?

_Next!_

* * *

**Wonderland**

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Elsa was fuming. " I don't care!" She shot an icy blast at the teacup, exploding.

The weir guy with the hat and the colorful suit seemed cross. "Now look what you did to your tea!" Then the next moment, he grinned again. "Have some more tea!"

A flying teapot came flying towards the blonde, only to caught deftly by the annoyed brunette, who diverted it with his – staff? (He doesn't have a staff yet! Where did he get that staff?) - and smashed into a far off chair. He turned to his companion, "Can we go now?"

"Not till we've got some directions," she answered determined, tentatively taking up another cup, only to put it down when she found a dormouse sleeping in it. "Well, that _is_ disturbing."

"Whatever." Jack leaned back in his chair, huffing irritatedly. He turned his head towards the sky, yelling, "Are you _ever_ gon'na give me ice-powers, woman?"

A teacup flew past his head, and delirious singing begun somewhere on the other end of the table.

"Oh, I've had it!" Elsa shot up from her seat, marching towards the carousing duo, drawing up her sleeves, ready to give them a piece of her mind. Or turn them into ice figures.

"Hello!" Jack waved furiously at the sky. "Still _waiting_!"

The author then decides to drop a giant house on the entire party just to shut him up. Everyone died.

_Next!_

* * *

**Summer Quarter **

"Got any threes?"

Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek as he ran his fingers over his cards. "Go fish."

Rapunzel sighed as she drew another card, before putting down two fives. "Your turn."

The boy mulled over this a while, then asked, " Any tens?"

She paused, then slid the card over to him. He lay it on the grass and added its twin to it.

"So do you think we'll ever die?" The blonde asked him, nodding at the tide that still had not arrived.

"Eh, eventually," Hiccup answered calmly, rearranging his pairs in neater piles. "I'm sure the author thinking of some really cool way to-"

And the wave suddenly washed over them, sweeping all cards and humans away.

Yes, they died. How underwhelming.

_Next!_

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

The Careers were walking around. They suddenly died from heatstroke while roasting marshmallows over a fire.

_Ke-plut! Boomphf! Diddle-diddle-whallo-wham!_

The author has used a bunch of onomatopoeia to avoid explaining anything whatsoever.

_Next!_

* * *

**Somewhere in the Arena**

Hiro took off his armband, holding it arm length. With a firm voice, he said, " BAYMAX! I CHOOSE YOU!"

He threw the armband to the ground, and for some strange reason, a white balloon man managed to emerge from it.

"Hello, my name is Baymax," the robot greeted the boy.

The moment the boy just died.

Just like that.

_Poomf!_

Whatever.

_Next_!

* * *

**Somewhere **_**else**_** in the Arena**

The other tributes all died of unexplainable reasons. It was rather dull and furiously anti-climatic. The critics were especially harsh on the lack of creative language and fragmented storytelling.

_Next!_

* * *

**The TGO5 Universe**

The Capitol exploded. And then Panem. And the planet. Annnnddd nothing makes sense.

_Next!_

* * *

**Some Other Universe **

SharKohen was staring at her computer, gone completely crazy after her exams. So she decided to cut the story, kill off all the characters and quit it forever.

The End.

Bam! Whoosh! Dum-dum-dum!

Because you can never have too many onomatopoeias.

* * *

**(Farewell, humans.)**

**Happy April Fools!**

**No, I'm not quitting this story. Or anything. Anything that happened in this chapter is not true. I wrote this in a bout of insanity, and I won't edit a thing because I was going with the mad flow. Sorry if you just found plain unamusing that I've cheated your feelings. **

**My views on Jack have some lack-luster dialogue is… My view. He has some good quotes, like the 'being tossed in a sack through a magic portal' and the 'don't look at me! I'm invisible' ones, but at some really important moments…the quotes just fall flat. Seriously, he needs some more good lines. Really. Hence fanfiction and fandom. **

**The real chapter will be up this weekend, as it is scheduled to be, with the actual storyline, without OOC weirdos and with replies to reviews etc.**

**And I cannot emphasize more…NOTHING IN THIS CHAPTER HAPPENED!**

**...I should probably stick to writing angst and suspense, shouldn't I?**

**And now I run.**


	29. Chapter 27: Shift (for real)

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 27: Shift

* * *

**This is the Real Chapter. I swear. Just the first paragraph is the same.**

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

It had started as such a beautiful day. Her hair had gotten washed and done up, with the help of her new frien_-um_, ally. Hiccup had braided a central braid to hold most of her hair of the ground, which reduced the mobility hindrance. He had however left the two free cords near the side of her head to coil around each arm, which she could continue to use as whip and lasso as she had previously done. To that, she had been much grateful, and had expressed it so enthusiastically, much to the embarrassment of the awkward boy.

In the afternoon, they had gone fishing – mostly to feed Toothless - in the Summer Quarter, and later on they had gather 'dragon nip' together. Somehow or another, she had ended up aiding him in his construction of dragon traps. While she hadn't completely agreed with his 'anti-kill' sentiments towards the reptilian mutts, she had admired the thought he had put into his non-lethally effective and effectively non-lethal designs.

As the sun crept closer and closer to the west of the Arena though, that was when -

"Don't stop! _Go! Go! Go!_"

She obeyed without question. In the hours of interaction she had with him, Rapunzel had learnt two important things about Hiccup. Firstly, he may have seemed weak on appearance, but he had enough smarts to make up for it. Secondly, even he wasn't a Career in the traditional sense, he had grown up with them, so between the two of them, he had greater authority on their workings. She didn't like to be so completely reliant on someone else, no matter how nice he seemed. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and having four Careers on your tail definitely counted as desperate.

"C'mon!" He yelled at her, beckoning her to catch up. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to pick up speed, berating herself on not taking up Hiccup's offer to try making her new shoes – not that he had the material to do so, anyway. The stones and crags made it difficult for her to get ahead to where he was even though she definitely was the fitter of the two. She had long given up on waiting for Eugene to send her anything, so she consoled herself with the thought of healing her scratched soles later. 'Later' being when she was alone, somehow.

But that could wait. Right now she needed to survive.

A familiar clink and _whish! _warned the duo in time. They ducked simultaneously as a curtain of shuriken flew over, smacking harmlessly into tree trunks instead of skulls. Relief was immediately swept aside for anxiety. Their attackers were closing in.

"We need to throw them off somehow," Hiccup told her, as they rushed through thickets of thorns and hopped over crawling vines, "there's no way we'll win a fight."

That she agreed with instantly. In her satchel, she still had her knife, but compared to the swords and axes the enemies wielded - and wielded with expertise – it was a pitiful weapon. "So what's the plan?"

"Split up, lead them of to-" he broke off suddenly as a long dagger sprung out of nowhere, almost slicing his shoulder. "_YARGH!_ Okay, do you remember where all the dragon traps are?"

She nodded. They had spent the a good deal of the afternoon building them, anyhow.

Speaking of dragons…

She took a quick glance to the sky. It was stained crimson red, with ribbons of violet shooting in between. The Gamemakers were manipulating the daylights again.

"How long do we have before the next raid?" she yelled at him, before hopping over a mossy stone, swinging herself over rotting log and landing on the dirt ground.

He battered through low hanging brambles, spitting out the leaves that got into his mouth before replying, "An hour at most, and that's only if the Gamemakers don't feel like ruining our lives -which they do by the way." He's scrunched up his face. "Shouldn't have said that out loud, should I?"

Rapunzel nodded again with a plaintive expression. As they half-skidded, half stumbled down the pebble-strewn slope before them, she asked, "Rendezvous point?"

"The stream. Let's finish before sunset. Hopefully," he muttered last sentence with a note of melancholy.

"On it."

At the foot of the hill, they parted ways. The clamour from the pursuers informed them well enough that the Careers were splitting up too. Hearing the crunching of leaves under heavy footfalls, and the jingling of metal against bark, her pulse quickened as she wound the golden cords tighter around her arms. She considered hooking onto one of the higher branches and swinging herself away, but time was short and she needed to put down the Careers, and put them down fast.

She tried not use the word 'kill'. It only served as a reminder that she was too weak to carry it out.

A quick glance informed that the pair of chasing Careers was that of District 1, which meant a lot, and a lot, of flying knives.

Half a dozen darts flew past her head and she shrieked at the unsettling sight. The distraction proved disastrous, as she just happened to step on particularly pointed shrapnel of stone at that moment. Slowing, she caught sight of the tall black-haired girl running abreast to herself, with only pocket of shrubbery and two trees keeping them apart. But Rapunzel had seen her practice, and she knew Gothel had the almost uncanny ability to strike anything she aimed for, and the green shields might were about as protective as paper.

The first dagger whizzed past her chest, bypassing the blonde's torso only by sheer luck. The pursued girl began sucking in tight breaths, frantically scrambling away from Gothel, darting behind another curtain of foliage as if the leaves could protect her. But in the periphery of her vision, she spotted the white-headed boy, Shen, charge her way. Twisting back his arm, he then swung it forward, releasing a splay of razors. Abandoning her previous reservations, Rapunzel launched a blonde cord upward, pulling herself off the ground just as the blades bit into bark once more.

Picking the momentum from the jump, she swung herself forward, lashing out the other coil of hair to hook another branch. She heard annoyed snarls from Shen, and a gasp of surprise from Gothel. She couldn't help grinning – she supposed Career Training didn't quite prepare them for a Tarzan-like antics.

The chase didn't cease though, though it's nature had altered drastically. She took to hopping from one branch to another, whilst the pursuers below her attempted to pin her with knives. Taking higher ground fortunately gave her the advantage, in the fact that it took the Careers more effort to hurl each projectile. On the plus side, the increased density of boughs and brambles provided gave her better cover while she led them surely and precariously to what she hoped would put an end to this heart-thumping escapade.

No matter what it had seemed initially though, luck wasn't on her side. An unchecked landing on one of branch suddenly had her skidding off the bark completely, before she plunged toward the rocky ground. Only a blonde loop above cutting her fall, stopping her from smacking against the Earth and suspending her midair. But this slip had cost her dearly in time, and by the time she had untangled the twin cords and got ready to run, she felt sometime scratch the side of her hip.

With a yelp, she clutched at the fabric there, letting out a whimper as she gathered up the blonde strands and tried to move forward, but whoever had assaulted her was much faster. Two blades later, she found herself pinned to a tree trunk: one blade stabbed into her blonde braid, and the other to her coat jacket.

"You know, dearie, I saved your life back in the Bloodbath. I should think you'd at least have the decency to thank me."

Rapunzel raised her head, her green eyes meeting the steely gray of District 1 girl. She held a long dagger parallel to her forearm, edging towards the blonde, yet Rapunzel couldn't help noting the slight hesitation in the Career's face.

"We would have made such excellent friends, I'm sure. Or at least, allies," Gothel continued coolly, waving back her black curls. She paused only to scrutinize her fingers for a moment, a mortified expression appearing on her face. "Did I break a nail?"

"And you say I'm vain," the sneering voice of Gothel's district mate broke in. Both girls immediately turned to face him. Gothel groaned in annoyance, while the captured blonde swallowed, trying to draw herself away, only to find that the blades holding her down were doing their job too well. Then she stopped short.

Furtively examining their surroundings, a realization struck Rapunzel when she caught sight of the net of vines hanging above the Careers, blended carefully against the greenery. It seemed that she had made it to her destination after all.

She could hear the two Careers exchanging insults in front of her, but she focused on finding the trigger. A few seconds later, a half-smile formed on her lips when she spotted the ropes for pulley system. Then she frowned. Her little discovery wouldn't matter if she couldn't cut that rope.

She considered trying to yank out one of the blades pinning her to the tree trunk, but the Careers would notice such an action easily. So as inconspicuously as she could, she slipped a free hand into her satchel, her sweating palm searching for the knife that she had stolen from the Career pile a few days prior.

"-oh, so _you_ caught her now?" Gothel snorted derisively at the pale boy by her side. "Please, you couldn't nab anyone, even if they were brought in shackles and served to you on silver platter."

Shen dripping in sarcasm. "Oh, I wouldn't pretend that I could. Trapping and ensnaring is your speciality. You're the snake, after all."

Gothel made a sharp laugh that was obviously lacking any humour whatsoever. Rapunzel tried not to dally on how that sound made her muscles tense, instead the cool steel that pressed in her palm. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from the satchel, her eyes still fixed on the arguing duo.

"Let's get this over," Shen said abruptly, heading towards the blonde, his hand going immediately to the long curved blade strapped to his back. Rapunzel gulped, her as she stared at the hollow emptiness in his strange, red eyes.

"Oh, no, _you_ don't_."_ The tall boy was jerked to a halt by Gothel. A conflicted expression crossed her face briefly her gaze fell on the quivering captive, who hoping nobody noticed the knife in her hand.

"I see someone else is already having second thoughts on life-taking," remarked Shen, narrowing his eyes at his ally, yanking his arm from her.

"What do you mean?" Gothel demanded, almost jabbing her dagger at the boy glaring at her.

Rapunzel pursed her lips together, tearing her eyes away from the predators to focus on her target. The Career had seriously underestimated her if they let down their guard whilst her hands were unbound. Of course, she was seriously _over_estimating her abilities if she thought the half-baked plan in her head would come to fruit.

"Don't think I don't know about the little alliance you tried to put together, and don't think I don't know why either."

"Well, you should know the why, at least. You're largely to blame."

Rapunzel recalled too well how that particular practice session during Training days went. Compared to these two, her aim with darts was truly pathetic. Besides that, a knife was much heavier and longer than a dart, so this was a really whole new experience.

Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, and the fist that held the blade behind her back was trembling. This wasn't training anymore. She had only one shot, and if she messed it up, she was dead.

"Face it, Gothel. There's nothing you can do that'd ever bring her back."

"I suppose that's true enough. After all, _you_ made sure of that."

Saying her last silent prayers, Rapunzel launched herself forward as much as the blades that pinned her could allow. Her arm swung forward, letting fly the knife from her hand. There was exclamations of unpleasant shock came from both Careers, till they saw the steel tip zip past their heads.

"Missed!" Shen cawed in scornful delight, his hand going to his curved longsword again.

Gothel open her mouth to say something, but whether it be a mocking cheer or a poisonous snide, it was morphed into a yelp of surprise as the weed nets fell onto the two Careers standing in the clearing, its weight forcing the duo to the ground.

Not wasting time in celebrating her narrow victory, the blonde pulled the blades off the trunk, freeing herself. Rather than leave the projectiles for her competitors to retrieve, she decided to stash them in her satchel. The Careers struggled beneath the contraption, still uttering and cursing in disbelief. As Rapunzel scooted over to get the last of blades – that is, the very humble one that she had just thrown – she caught the dark-haired girl beneath the net giving her lost look, almost disappointed. Then it hardened into a glare of steel.

Discarding any initial plans of taunting them –

not that she was really that malicious, but it would have been nice to give them a taste of their medicine – she swung around and sunk herself back into the forest, far away from the sharps razors in their hands and the sharps words on their tongues.

As she raced towards the rendezvous point, she couldn't the uneasiness as she recalled the anger in Gothel's eyes. The elder girl was a puzzle. She was hardly the compassionate type, and Rapunzel had seen her kill in the Arena, so obviously the Career didn't suffer the first-kill trauma the way she herself did. Yet for some reason or another, Gothel tended to treat her with a great deal more leniency, and – dare she say it? – _care_ as compared to how she treated other tributes. Sentimentality, perhaps? A reminder of someone else? That sounded almost sacrilegious for a Career.

She arrived by the stream side when the Sun had just dipped on the horizon – the very same steam where she had first met and almost killed her bony little ally. Removing a knife from the satchel, she held it while seating herself on a rock near the bank, scanning her surroundings, always on guard. Little reptilian mutts called Terrors were flying off from their nests now, heeding summons of the program. Across the skies, she noted occasional pockets of scaly beasts swept over. She knew come midnight, they would rain down like a fiery Summer storm.

As time flew by, she got to her feet again and started pacing about. Unconsciously, she began coiling her golden strands tighter around her arms, even chewing on a lock in nervousness. _Where was he?_

Then a terrifying thought struck her, and when it did, she wanted to kick herself. What if he had betrayed her? He claimed that he wasn't a Career, and by appearance, he certainly didn't look it, but what if he really was? What if he was in cahoots with them all along and was just playing her up? Even if he wasn't from the start, should he get caught by them now, it wouldn't be that difficult for him to strike with a deal to save his skin. One of the girls was from his district, right? She'd probably get him in.

And he would lead them right to her.

Her blood boiled at the thought and her heart clenched. Yet another part of her couldn't see him doing that. It just felt so… un-Hiccup.

A shriek from the edge of the forest almost startled her out of her skin. Instinctively, her bare feet wanted to pull her away, send her running back to the cove, but she sucked in a breath and headed towards the origin of the cry instead. She darted through a curtain of vines, over the mossy pebbles and the hard dirt, not stopping till she arrived at the scene.

Dangling from a tree was a blonde Career in a net, looking extremely furious. She struggled in the ropes, screeching at the top of her voice, "You're dead, Hiccup! _So, so dead!_ Just you wait till I get my hands on you!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," was the dejected reply.

Upon hearing the familiar nasal voice, Rapunzel was glad to see the skinny brunette boy sprawled on the ground, with a strange expression on his face. She did however blanched when she caught sight of the long gnash along his arm, the weapon at fault sitting at his feet. Any fear she had of him double-crossing her dissipated, turning instead to concern as she hurried by his side. "Are you alright?"

The boy seemed pleased to see her too, even though he winced when he shifted his arm. "Yeah. Sorry I'm late. Ran into issues." He gestured at the infuriated Career almost nonchalantly. "Don't worry. They're both caught now. "

The blonde in the net growled, causing the boy to shriek back. Rapunzel extended a hand and he took it gratefully. Even as she heaved him, he kept turning to look at the Career, so Rapunzel found herself examining the other girl too.

With her axe lying harmlessly on the ground now, the entrapped girl seemed a whole lot smaller, though not as small as Hiccup. She was lean-built, and she had any muscles, it was obscured the black coat hung over her shoulders. Taking each and every one of the girl's features from her stringy blonde strands to her sapphire blue eyes, Rapunzel suddenly realized that she recgonized her.

She turned to Hiccup, starting, "Is she-"

"So are you going to kill me now?" The Career interrupted scornfully, still glaring at the boy, as if the other blonde wasn't here at all.

Hiccup's expression was close unreadable and his hands were trembling. Rapunzel couldn't stop the wave of sympathy from washing over her.

Gently removing his ally's arm from his own, facing his district mate, answering quietly, "Not all of us do things that way."

"You don'thave a choice, you know," the Career retorted snidely, gritting her teeth together. Rapunzel could detect a hint of doubt in her words.

"No, I don't," the boy's voice dropped at an octave. Bending over, he reached for the bloodied axe, raising it shakily off the ground. Rapunzel inhaled sharply, dropping several steps back, but she noticed that his gaze wasn't on her, but on still on the Career.

The District 2 girl seemed confused, almost worried. She tried to recoil, but couldn't because the net wouldn't allow her to. Hiccup's visage didn't change when he placed both hands on the axe handle, lifting over his head. The brilliant blue eyes suddenly went as wide as saucers, while Hiccup's green ones seemed to darken.

Then he slammed the blade into a tree, jamming it there.

"Let's go, Rapunzel," he told his dumbstruck ally. She nodded. His actions puzzled her, but the pained expression he wore kept her from questioning her further.

The blonde Career in the net was half incredulous, half mad. "You can't keep avoiding this!"

"I'm not," he answered simply, as he stepped in pace with Rapunzel, turning away from his District mate. "I wouldn't stay past midnight if I were you."

"Why not? What happens at midnight? Hey! You get back here right this instant, Hiccup Haddock! Get back _right now_! Hiccup! HICCUP!"

The duo kept walking away from the Career till her screams faded in with the sounds of the night. Reptilian calls could be heard all around; the dragons were coming.

"We'd better head back to the cove quickly," he told her, and she agreed, quickening her pace.

The question she had in mind still bothered her, so she asked, "Hiccup?"

"Yeah?"

"She's the girl, isn't she? The one you drew in the book."

He didn't answer, only striding forward more briskly, forcing her to accelerate herself.

"I'm sorry. That's really horrid." The adjective seemed so inadequate, she realized after saying it.

He didn't look at her – not that it was much to see with darkness creeping on them. The last lights were fading fast.

Finally, she heard a soft answer. "There was nothing to begin with."

"I-I don't understand."

He tried to shrug, only clutch his wounded arm in pain at that moment. "I never stood a chance, so," he made a weak chuckle, "nothing to lose."

Rapunzel couldn't help glancing at the gnash. From the little light remaining, she could make out the shiny red liquid dripping down. "It looks bad."

"Oh, this? It's just a cut." He waved it off, unconcerned. "Maybe Toothless might help me lick it clean. I'm starting to think his saliva has healing properties."

It was just on her tip tongue, just to say that, '_oh, your scary dragon isn't the only one with healing abilities, you know. And not to boast or anything, mine's way faster ,' _but it was as if there was something clogging up her throat. She shook herself. What was wrong with her? Hiccup had proven himself over and over; he had taught her so much, given her shelter and shared his meals – which weren't poisoned, as she had feared. He had never even considered betraying her, and he turned his back on the girl he liked in favor an alliance with her. If anyone could be trusted here, it should be Hiccup.

She clenched a golden lock in her hand. He _deserved_ her help.

But her lips stayed sealed all the way back to the cove, and she doubted they would part even when they went beyond the cliff door, back into their safe haven.

* * *

'_When did he get this good?'_

She was mad - absolutely and terrifyingly mad. She hated being outsmarted. She was the best Career of District 2 – no – of Panem, and she got showed up by none other than the stupid wimp of a Haddock.

Swearing through clenched teeth, Astrid shifted her body back, then heaving her weight as front as she could. The tree branch groaned as the net hanging from it swung forward, only to be jerked back by the wiry girl inside it. Determined and positively livid, she kept swinging back and forth over and over, till she was able to reach between the net hole and grab onto her axe handle.

She grinned, but only a little. Smart little Haddock couldn't be that smart if he put her axe right where she could retrieve it eventually.

With her prize in hand, she pressed its blade against the ropes that held her, working fast to cut the knots. Several strained minutes later with her fingers getting more tired each second, she found herself dropping to the dirt packed ground, fortunately falling only the flat of her axe. Picking herself hastily, she only spared a few second massaging her legs before she was off running again into the dark woods.

She supposed she would have to save Dagur first, provided he was still alive. He had fallen into some kind of quicksand trap much earlier in the chase, and had made such a big fuss over it she couldn't bother to rescue him then. Besides, knowing Hiccup, he was probably too squeamish to actually let anyone die in one of his traps, so he'd have some kind of failsafe. After all, that had yet to a cannon shot today.

_His_ traps – he actually built all of these and they worked. Astrid decided to forget about the time she had ever shown any interest in his weird inventions. Now, she hated them, every single one of them. And she hated their maker the most.

_Thrice accursed son of a half-troll._ She really wanted to bash that oversized skull of his.

Whilst imagining up all sort of wonderful ways to maim her district mate once she had caught him again, it suddenly occurred to Astrid that his misplaced placement of her axe was not misplaced at all. After, he was smart, and he knew that her arms were long enough to reach the axe. And he was squeamish about killing people.

Her face when white with horror, then fury. Did Hiccup, _the _Hiccup a.k.a walking disaster of District 2, just spare her life? _Of all insulting, insufferable-_

She suddenly heard a hair-raising roar somewhere out in the forest, causing all her muscles to freeze up. Though her heart beating like a drum, she paused to listen.

There was snorting, loud snorting, followed by a displeased grunt, then… steps, heavy steps. She raised her axe, positioning her legs apart, her eyes flitting around her, waiting for the first sign of danger.

Then, a gush of warm air ran over her jittery form, and she slowly turned, only to meet the large yellow eyeballs, and dripping array of canines.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"Pssst! Lass!"

Vanellope yawned, stretching her arms out, then quickly drawing them back when she remembered where she was. She didn't want to lose balance and tip over, after all. It was a precarious and very dangerous task, sleeping on the tree branch, but the District 11 had much experience with sleeping in this manner than her companion did and didn't need to tie herself down. The great advantages of being a street urchin was that one learnt to sleep in all kinds of funny places.

"Who died?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

The redhead girl stared for a moment, then finally understood. "Oh, no one. The death recap was completely clean today."

"Oh, good." Then she changed her mind. "Oh, wait. Bad luck then."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get distracted, l'il lass." In the darkness – both of them had agreed that there were to be no fires after sunset – Vanellope had almost hear the older girl rolling her eyes.

"Stop making fun of my height," she automatically said.

"Ya-da, ya-da," Merida muttered impatiently. She was sitting on a tree branch perpendicular to Vanellope's own, her own back too leaning against the trunk. "I was thinking about how you said the Spring Quarter was full of poisonous plants, right?"

"Uh-huh." Vanellope was having a hard time keeping awake, and she gave another yawn.

"And you said that the Careers kept a – what were your words – 'food pyramid' of their own there, right?"

"It's gotta other resources too," the little girl corrected snippily. "Frizzles, can you get to the point? Sleep-deprived kid here. I have my rights."

"Fine, fine." Merida sighed, but Vanellope could hear a little excitement under the irritation. "Think with me here: won't it be an awful shame if the Careers suddenly found their supply pyramid gone, and they all maybe – just maybe – accidentally ate a poisonous berry or two?"

It took a while for Vanellope to get it, but when she finally did, she was grinning like a Chesire cat. Swing herself over such that her legs were now dangling off the branch, she faced her redheaded ally.

You have my complete and undivided attention."

* * *

"_Ow, ow, ow."_

"Stop moving. I can't aim properly if you doing that."

"Alright, but if you would just –ow!"

Elsa dropped the boy's arm, throwing her own up in exasperation, and that single wave upwards sent an small ice blast up into greenery overhead. The graze on his shoulder was really ugly, mixed with bits of his torn flesh, fresh blood and – though she couldn't see it – wolf saliva.

"Jack, if you don't let me patch it up right now, your wound will get infected."

"Can't we just wait for Bunnymund to – ow! You do know that I can get frostbite, right?"

She did a double take at that. To be honest, she had actually forgotten all about that minor, but rather important, detail. The cold never bothered her, so it was never really in her top ten list of concerns. Didn't mean that list applied to other people though.

"Sorry about that," she murmured rather stiffly, "but we've not idea when your mentor can send something again – your last gift must have really expensive - and the infection will fester if I don't do this."

She heard him give a deep groan, before he straightened his back, leaning the injured shoulder towards her. "Do it."

Squinting at the wound, she carefully focused on applying the thinnest layer of ice over the opening and only the opening – there was no point freezing up his flesh, after all. '_Pretend your frosting a cake,'_ she told her in her head, '_nice and easy.' _ She psyched herself over and over with such words, shutting out his hisses of pain or avoiding any reaction to how he jerked away occasionally. She had to remind herself over and over that her powers were not hurting him, but helping him, lest she just glaciate his entire torso a fit of panic.

All in all, it had been quite a rollercoaster, and they were lucky that the Gamemakers had decided to spare them after all. She had been woken from a frightening dream where she had been about to burnt at a stake in her district, to an equally frightening reality where her companion and her had had to flee from a pack of savage wolf-muttations.

There had been no moon, only with a handful of distant constellations bearing the faintest of lights. Being constantly on the go proved detrimental in any fire starting attempts, turning their journey through the snow-ridden forest into one of blind groping and stumbling, until it had finally occurred to her to light up her hands.

She had to confess she had been absolutely terrified when she had first seen the dozens of gleaming eyes reflecting against the blue of her light. Jack had then said that then he had experience in fighting wolves, but not quite in packs, and definitely not muttations.

It had been there he had asked, "Could you make us ice weapons?"

And she had replied,_"'The use of powers to strike the killing blow is forbidden.'"_

He recognized the quote, but not the purpose of mentioning it. "What's the problem?"

"They never specified if the rule was limited to just tributes."

Jack had been gobsmacked. "That," he said, much chagrinned, "never occurred to me."

The chase – for it was hardly a battle – had been nerve-wrecking to save the least. Even as they had darted past of the evergreens, she had been able to feeling ice spilling on her every steps. At one point, she had so much frost building in her hands that Jack, who had been holding one earlier, had to let it go a yelp of pain. Then she had found herself disquietingly and scarily alone.

Fending off the beasts while taking care not fatally wound them had been tricky, especially since they had come by the swarms. It had been easier at the start, just creating ice barriers or trapping them in ice walls. But as time past, she had begun to understand the Gamemakers had no intention of letting up the attack until the wolf-mutts had torn her to shreds, or she had become desperate enough to ice her grizzly attackers and condemn herself. As holding off the never-ending stream of canines had begun to take a toll on both her body and spirit, the latter had become increasingly appealing.

Option three had come then in the most surprising forms, and even now she couldn't erase the vivid image of it flashing in her mind.

Out of nowhere – or it had seemed so at that time – a war-like cry had sounded, and from behind a rock ledge her brunette ally had leapt, dramatically lending between her and her foes. In his hands, he had wield a weapon she had never seen him carry before – a long wooden staff, he had explained later, as the latest gift from his mentor. One of its ends had been alight with a flame – which, he had revealed, had been so because he had lit it that way, and not by some mystical means as it had appeared at that moment.

With the blazing staff in hand, he had charged, and it had been at that moment she had been reminded that the District 10 boy was no weakling – even the Careers had recognized it at some point. Whipping the fire staff overhead, he fought of the beasts with an extraordinary amount of ferocity. The burns had sent many scattering. The bolder ones he had knocked them by their skulls or sent swift blows to their stomach. Throughout all of it, he had worn a grim grin, with a glint in his eye. With such prowess with the staff, she had wondered how on Earth he could possibly attain such a low score for his judging. But then, the same could be said for her.

They had been an excellent team; he had attacked and she had defended. But even the best fight tactics could not win, even logically, against a program design to kill. So they had turned their pattern of fight to hit-and-run. It had been rather effective but imperfect, as evident by the wound on Jack's shoulder.

"Elsa?"

"Yes?" she answered, drawing back her hands to examine her handiwork. The ice patch was unlikely to kill all chances of infection, but it would definitely slow it down indefinitely, and that was more than enough. The Hunger Games usually never last that long anyway.

"Where do you think we are?"

She gazed around their surroundings, using the light from the glowing staff to see. The conifers had vanished, replaced by warm maples and an occasional oak. Red leaves littered the ground, and the only snow at their feet was that still clinging to their boots, and even it was melting away in the new temperature.

"Autumn." She couldn'st hold back the disbelief. Had they manages to run so far? "We're in Autumn."

If Jack shared her feelings, he didn't show it. "Well, that explains why my clothes are melting."

She glance sharply at his attire. Sure enough, the white colouration was leaking away, bringing out the original black of the fabric. She anxiously examined her own apparel, but it still remained frosty white as the day she had first formed it.

"This is so unfair," Jack complained, crossing his arm as he compared their clothes.

"I can make it again if you want," she offered instantly, fearful that he was really offended.

"Nah, I was kidding." He waved her away good-humouredly. "'sides, it'll probably melt again." He paused for a while, eyeing her attire critically. "Honestly, though, I don't white's really the most suited color for this place. Could you melt yours out?"

She knew she had repeated it several times, but sometimes she wondered if he'd fully grasped it. "I can't melt things." Then an idea came to her. "However-"

Focusing on her dressage, she waved her hand towards her white attire. At once, a flurry of ice surrounded her again, transforming the white to a darker navy blue.

Jack just gawked, then turned away, pouting. "Now I'm really, really jealous."

She couldn't help smiling at his childish manner, and eventually he stopped sulking and laughed too. Then his face fell suddenly.

"Wait. Is my staff still on fire?"

Sure enough, the staff, resting against the soil, was still burning merrily away. The boy leapt from his seat hurriedly, muttering 'he's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me,' before taking up the stick. Then, he haphazardly tried to put out it with his hands. It was pure folly, of course, and he ended up dropping it all over again, blowing on his palms with much vigour. Elsa was snickering all over again as she raised the staff from the ground, a single touch spreading a sheen of frost around the staff, climbing and circling it till the flames were extinguished with a silent hiss.

His mentor had chosen one of excellent quality; that much was apparent by the fact that the entire staff had yet to disintegrate into ash and embers. This was not to say the staff was undamaged, however. In the heat, the burning end had become gnarled and twisted, curving itself into a charred hook.

"I guess it's ruined now," she said, as she returned the staff to her ally.

He toyed with the staff for a moment, twirling it about in his hands. Making a mock thrust with it, she was surprised to find he was grinning away. "It's perfect."

"What?"

"The hook. It's makes it like a shepherd's crook," he explained, tracing up the blackened wood lovingly. "Fits me like a boot. Hat. Weapon. Whatever."

Elsa lifted a brow, but made no further comment. Cocking her head to a side, she pointed out, "It looks like a 'G', doesn't it?"

Jack went quiet for a long minutes after she said that, then he answered sombrely, "Yeah. 'G' for Guardian."

* * *

**S/N:**

**Jack's staff makes an appearance. In case you didn't catch, Bunnymund had asked to send it in Chap 26, but it had only arrived that night. **

**Wolves that attacked Jack and Elsa are the ones from **_**Frozen**_**, the ones that chased Kristoff and Anna. Initially I planned on writing out the battle in active POV, but it was so unsatisfactory, so I went for this style. It isn't that important a fight anyway.**

**Up Next: It's title is '**_**Departure**_**.' As you maybe able to tell by this chapter, big things are about to start, and there'd be consequences. Go figure.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**My exams have just ended, so there's a short reprieve for me now. Sorta. Now I have orchestra competitions and I'm supposed to work on philosophy paper. Yeah. Apologise for Typos in advance.**

**Okay to the matters on hand:**

**Benchmark Chapter**

**Whoohoo! Over 200+ reviews since Chap 26! **

**I must say this a lot, but whether you're a new reader or an old one, I really want to thank y'all for your support throughout this story! Especial thanks to my regular reviewers (you know who you are.)(I know its cliché and greedy – but reviews do motivate me.) The story is long past its halfway mark, and only because of you guys, the readers, reviewers, questioners, critics, and random people who just drop by. THANK YOU!**

**Okay, hype's over.**

**The Prank Chapter: Shift to Insanity**

**Before I became a Fanfiction writer (which was sometime in May last year), I had seen a couple of April Fool's Chapters, and I've always wanted to do one. I was honestly going to write a really honest sounding chapter, then kill off everyone brutally. But I was too lazy to that, so I went for breaking the fourth wall and insanity, because I just love that stuff. I apologized again if I had somehow ruined your sensibilities. From the reviews, I'm glad to see some have enjoyed it, so I'm glad about that, and thankful that no one has tried to kill me yet.**

**Mailbox: **

**Chapter 26:**

**waveringshadow: Love Team Arthouse? Awesome! I love them too (I love all the teams, but whatever). About Astrid not making out…I can't say anything. This is THG after all. As for Hiccup, well, he may have more of the right friends, but is he himself the right friend? Glad you liked the insanity chapter, and yes it was fun to write.**

**that one evil girl: Well thanks for thanking me! My insane chapter's a good chapter? *plots insanity in the future* hehehe.**

**Fenris Jin: I hope you've read up to this chapter by now, and if you have, I want to thank you for taking your time to pour out your thoughts on the chapters. I'm glad you've enjoyed reading (and crying. I think you've mentioned crying sometime.) I'll try to answer (or avoid answering) some of your questions: Yep, lots of Mayor's kids in these Games. In this universe, Hans' motivations and reasons for doing things are not quite the same as the movie, so how he acts may be …confusing. Yep, so many (ahem, or just two) mutants.**

**Fangirl: The Head-librarian called Bookworm in Chap 26 is indeed from Toy Story 3! The librarian that Eugene bumps into however is the guard from Tangled, the Hay-fever guy guarding the crown.**

**Frostbite (chap 5): Sorry about the Typos. *cringes* I love BH6 too.**

**SmilingStarcat: Weird ipods? Get it from my phone sometime (especially when I typing the story in it. Grr…). Ralph is rather like Thresh (sharp of you to notice!), but for that reason he won't be appearing much in the story much, but he has a role. To answer your questions: What you're reading in the story is what is actually happening in the Arena, and may not be seen on Capitol TV. (e.g. Scenes with Hiccup and Rapunzel in the Cove don't appear on TV, because (explanation Chap 24 on blindspots)). I have planned out the entire story, and…it is about 45 chapters in length. Which is really long. I think there's a good chance that I'll complete it, because I've already planned it out. Thanks for reviewing. **

**parkk20: Thank you! Sorry if you got tricked by the April Fool's Chapter, but here's the real one.**

**Awsomaniatica: To be honest, I really, really love Merida and Van as a team. They are just wonderful. The Head-librarian a.k.a. the Bookworm is from Toy Story 3 (never really thought of the scary librarian from Monsters U. Should add to my file of unused useful characters.) I'm glad you like the bit about Tooth – she deserved it. **

**Maggietheawesome: Ah…sorry, er, I don't like Mericup. I understand why people like it, but I just…don't – partially because I like Hiccstrid, and partially coz I usually try to be really canon - really canonical till the point it's almost ridiculous. I'm glad that you like Van and Merida. Wait, what don't we know about Turbo? I'm glad that you like the prank chapter. Write something about the Big Five living completely normal lives and chilling? I could as a one shot at most, but I don't really one for peace. For long.**

**Prank Chapter: **

**Electricangel12: Man, I knew I should have dropped the playstation thing. It was dead giveaway.**

**AmyMilo: Thank you.**

**Nightingale82: I'm really glad it cheered you! I really didn't plan the story. It was just nuts…**

**Manyotpsforlife: Sorry I had you worried. It is nuts.**

**ixPinkRoses: Thanks. Wait, if this is my best chapter, then all my other chapters are…**

**WarriorQueen 14: Don't lose faith in me. I'm not insane. Yet. Glad you found my weird humour somewhat funny. I guess.**

**Easter**

**I realized that I'm posting this on Easter Weekend, which is why I want to wish one and all a Happy Easter. As said and represented by Bunnymund/ Easter Bunny, Easter is all about hope. It is about second chances for even the most broken of souls, to see the lights in our dark, terrifying world, and I wish that upon every one of you. So, Happy Easter and God Bless.**

**So see you in two weeks' time guys! **

**(If y'all are really lucky – like really, really lucky, I might update in a week's time, but depends on life, so yeah.)**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**

* * *

_Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us._

_Romans 5:8 (NIV)_


	30. Chapter 28: Departure

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 28: Departure

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Merida had been awake for some time, but she was feeling really drowsy, so she kept her eyes shut and her back rested against the tree trunk. The imp of her ally had hopped down the tree much earlier on and Merida could catch a whiff of fire - that must have meant that the sun had risen already. However, the redhead still made no move from her position. She had spent a good deal of yesterday night hammering out all the details of her wonderful scheme with the lass, and that had been many, many points of contentions.

_"Get you where you wanna go, if you know what I mean-"_

Merida made an inward groan. It wasn't that she minded the morning call, since she was already awake after all, but did the girl have to sing all the time? It was especially awful as Vanellope seemed to have no concept of what it meant to hold a tune.

_"-Got a ride that's smoother than a limosuine. Can y'a handle the curves, can you run all the lights-" _

She cringed, wondering could be possible if the l'il lass had managed to add a couple of notes to the seven-note music system after all.

_"If you can baby boy than we can go all night-"_

Finally, the elder girl could take it no longer. Her eyelids shooting open, she grabbed a handful of yellow leaves from an unfortunate branch, tossing them hard at Vanellope, who was tending to the little fire on the ground, hollering, "Aw, shut it, won't ya?"

The little girl sniggered as yellow bits rained around her, hardly bothered from her task. "Nice to see you up so bright and early, Frizzle-frumps. Woke up on the wrong side of the tree?"

Merida was cooking up a suitably insulting comeback when she lost her balance and tipped herself over instead. She toppled, landing ungracefully with an 'oomphf'.

Vanellope didn't even rise from her seat, poking at the fire with a stick. "Are you dead?"

There was no answer.

"If you're dead, can I have your bow?"

The answer to that is immediate. "No. As a witness to your shooting abilities, I cannot give it to you on a clear conscience."

The little girl snorted. "Geez, some fun you are."

Rising from the heap that she had descended into, Merida sighed as she brushed the dirt out of her curls, picking off the twigs and casting them away. When she joined Vanellope at the campsite, she was presented with a bundle of strange-looking leaves.

"Breakfast," the girl explained.

If the elder had any doubts about them, she didn't bother mentioning it. With a word of thanks, she took the bundle and chewed on the leaves, trying to pretend it tasted like lettuce…which didn't really have much taste.

"You remember your part of the plan?" she questioned the smaller girl.

"Build a bonfire. Light it. Runaway."

"Build a bonfire where?"

The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Summer Quarter."

"How many do you build?"

"Two."

The elder girl narrowed her eyes. "What do you build it with?"

"What kind'a question's that?"

"Just answer it."

The little girl shrugged noncommittally. "Wood? Tinder?"

"Leaves! Big, green leaves that make loads of smoke!" said Merida much exasperated, before chomping down the rest of her green meal. Swallowing thoughtfully, she started again, "Look, lass, may we shouldn't split-"

"But the entire plan rests on us splitting!" Vanellope insisted.

Merida was stubborn. "_No_. honestly, I think if we move quick enough, we could-"

"I've walked the entire Arena, so trust me when I say that it's way too big. I'm fast enough to get from coast to coast, but you're not, no offense."

"And if you glitch out?"

That silenced the usually chatty girl, but only for a second. Her tone was resolute and firm, which seemed rather out of place, coming out from her tiny body. "I _won't_ glitch."

"You said it yourself. You can't control it."

"Well, I'll have to learn to at some point, won't I?" Vanellope retorted, glaring up the taller girl. She nodded at Merida's wrapped arm. "The way you learnt to shoot with _that_."

"That point is moot," replied Merida, creases appearing on her forehead while her eyes narrowed on her small companion. "I've always known how to shoot. And handling the pain is largely a mindset thing."

"And you think I can't do 'mindset'?" Vanellope raised her brow. "I've lived through gang-fights, street-chases, and all kinds of grubby trash you've never seen in your life. I handled the glitch then, and I will handle it now."

They stood with their eyes locked, their gazes unrelenting, and remained so for a good many minutes. If it wasn't that wore a mane of bronze coils and the other clump of greasy black, or that one was short and the other much shorter still, one would have thought that they could have used each other as mirrors by expression alone.

"We need to do this, Frizzies," the little girl said in a low but firm voice. "If we can wipe out four tributes – and Careers to boot – it's like thirty percent closer to winning. But the only way this idea can work is someone plays distracter, and I can't shoot even if my life depended on it – which it sort'a does right now."

With a displeased huff, Merida broke her gaze, marching away from the younger girl, cursing the lass' stubbornness, and cursing even more heartily that she was right. Somehow amidst the adrenaline, the fights and the food, the redhead had forgotten her true purpose the Games. It wasn't really about going home – not that she didn't miss her comfortable bed and the cosy fire back in District 5. It was about being a victor, _the_ victor. To bring glory and favor back to her district. To change her fate, and to be the hero she had always wanted to be. Not the cowardly, groveling snot to the Capitol. She needed to win.

Merida glanced behind at the little girl warming her hands by the fire, humming a little tune as she did. There could only be one victor in the Games, and Vanellope knew as well as she did that any alliance, or any friendliness – for they could not be _friends_, only _friendly _– was only temporary. Once the numbers started dwindling, it would be best if they parted if they wanted to avoid, well, _you know…._

Wishing to escape these uneasy thoughts, Merida stared down at her bandaged arm. Vanellope had made it from a combination of fabrics from both their coats. She had never got around thanking her for that.

Picking at the knot of the splint, Merida begun undoing it. Her plan required the attacker – herself, obviously – to be her fullest capacity, and 'fullest capacity' for Merida could never be attained without a bow in hand. Unwinding every single bit of fabric, removing too the leaves that had been slotted in between – 'aids healing', Vanellope had claimed – she finally reached her red, crinkly-skinned arm. Tracing the bone of her forearm with her right hand, she pressed along the muscles. From her assessment, it seemed that it could possible that 'breaking her arm' was really just sprain, or maybe even just a strain if she was lucky. Her elbow had no problems bending. She could raise and drop her arm easily. However, upon twisting her wrist around, a pained gasp escaped her lips. Well, it would be too much to expect a full recovery in two days.

Having gotten over her little 'sulk', Merida returned to the main camp. By then, her ally had stomped out the flames, though she had neglected to cover up the evidence. The girl herself had vanished – probably to take a tinkle in the woods, or something that Merida didn't want to know too many details about. The redhead proceeded to kick some fallen leaves and sticks over the remnants of the fire-pit, mixing the ashes into the dirt until any sign of habitation was blotted out.

Then she focused on logistics distribution. There was only one water bottle, which was hers. This she decided would be given to Vanellope; the lass would probably have to do much more running-away than she did, and the Spring Quarter would probably have more than enough water bodies around. That, however, could not be said for the food supply in Spring Quarter, especially with so much poisonous vegetation there. So she grabbed a bundle of the leaves – the same that she had for 'breakfast' – and shoved in her pockets. Her quiver had been placed at the foot of the tree, put there by the little girl, no doubt, but her bow was nowhere in sight.

"Lass, where's my bow?" she called out, even as she slung the quiver over her shoulder.

The answer was muffled, so the District 11 girl was probably sitting some distance away. "Gim'me a sec!"

Merida cocked her brow, turning in the direction of the voice in askance. "Lass?"

"Go do something else first," Vanellope replied, half-evasive, half-absentminded, as if she was occupied with something. "Like iron out the frizzles, or somethin'. Just wait for a bit!"

Putting her arms akimbo, Merida said with, an edge in her tone, "_Lass_."

"Sweet mother of monkey milk! Are you _ever_ patient?"

Her voice climbed an octave. "_What did you do with my bow?_"

"Hey, look, magic pony riding through the forest!"

"_Lass! _What did you do to my bow?"

There was an uneasy pause.

"N'uffin'."

Merida rolled her eyes heavenward, rubbing her temple defeatedly, muttering, "_Jings crivens, help ma bob."_

After an apprehensive minute or two, Vanellope returned with a spring in her step, grinning from cheek to cheek. She was holding the long wooden weapon behind her back.

"I got you something," she announced in a sing-song voice.

Merida was unamused. "Lem'me guess. My bow?"

"Close, close, but not quite," the little girl answered, still putting on lofty airs the way she knew would irritate her ally. "But first,-" she jabbed a finger at the ground, putting on a grandiose air, "-kneel down, my good lady."

"What?" Merida was baffled, then annoyed. "Lass, time's awastin'. Can we please-"

"Just do it." Vanellope slipped back into a plaintive voice.

Rolling her eyes, the redhead harrumphed before dropping to her knees. "_A bampot wee divit._"

"That's your district slang thingy, isn't it?" Vanellope asked, with furrowed brows. "Do you even know half of what you're saying?

"_Yes_. For your information, what I said was-"

"Whatever. Now close your eyes."

"Stop interrupting. What I said was-"

"_Close 'em_!"

rMerida sighed before obeying the order.

"Now hold your hands out."

The elder girl grudgingly did just that. At that moment, she felt the familiar feel of the cool wooden limbs pressed into her palms. She couldn't hold back another sarcastic remark, "Could this be my bow? I'm amazed by your ingenuity, lass."

Vanellope pretty much just ignored her. "Now, open your eyes."

Merida did just that, and sure enough, it was still her fortunately undamaged bow that sat in her hands. However, running her fingers on the limbs, she noticed that the surface was rougher, bits of woods cutting into her hands. Squinting at the front surface of the bow, she realized that something had been carved in it.

It read in block letters and in no uncertain terms: '_FRIZZLE FLOSS-BRAINS.' _

Merida deadpanned, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this insult?"

Vanellope beamed, unabashed. "It takes nutter to ally with a glitch." She made a twirly gesture with her finger. "Turn it over."

Still rather annoyed, the redhead turned the bow by its nocks till the back of the bow faced her. Then her entire expression changed.

It was engraved in cursive print, which couldn't have been easy to do even with a sharpened blade, even less with the arrowhead that Vanellope had used. It read, '_You're my hero.'_

Merida lifted her head at once, shooting a questioning look at the District 11 girl. She wasn't smiling, but she was didn't seem unhappy either. Her manner was awkward and she looked uncomfortable, but her words were sincere. "It takes a special nutter to ally with a glitch."

The older girl was at a loss for words. There was a wonderful, springy stirring in her chest - something foreign and fuzzy yet sweet. But there was also the light heart was weighed down by guilt in knowing that the words on the bow won't always true, and the l'il lass would end up spitting on her name and her district at some point. Only the heavens knew how much the elder girl dreaded that day.

So Merida said nothing. Stretching out both arms - injured and not - she wrapped the little girl in warm embrace, holding her tight as if it was her last chance of ever doing so.

Of course, Vanellope had to kick up a fuss. She wheezed, "Frizzles… Oxygen…Can't…Breath." Then coughed twice to add the drama.

Merida just laughed, letting go of the squirming girl, much to the latter's relief. The redhead slung the bow over her shoulder, ruffling her ally's hair, much to the latter's annoyance. "Look after yourself,l'il lass."

"Ditto, Floss-brains," Vanellope replied, giving a two-finger salute to the redhead. Suddenly, she spun on the heel, darting forward, calling back, "Last one back makes dinner!"

Merida gave a chuckle, before shouting, "Challenge accepted!"

Looking at the ever-shedding maples around her, the invading silence felt almost suffocating. It had been only two days or maybe even less, but to the redhead, it felt as if she had known the girl for her whole life. Now that hyperactive, sassy bundle of unending childish exuberance was out of the picture, being in the Arena was more a whole lot darker, and it was already dark to begin with.

"It was only temporary," she told herself, as she began her long trek towards the Cornucopia, where she would cut through to the Spring Quarter. Once their jobs were done, both would meet at their first campsite, the same that Vanellope had taken her to when she had passed out from the Demon Bear fight. The younger girl had cut an 'M' and 'V' on that tree near there, so that they could recognize it.

Merida tried to comfort herself that soon she would return to the company of the sardonically cheerful little imp when the moon would be back with the stars, and when there were hopefully four less Careers in the field.

However, there were many fears that continued to prod her still. The prominent one was that which reminded her of the inevitable darkness that loomed behind the fragile bond the girls shared. That's a battle that could not be won.

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

It seemed indeed that every spare moment they had _had _to be filled with squabbling.

"You told us he was harmless!"

"I never said that," the blonde girl defended herself fiercely. "Wimpy, yes. Harmless, _never_."

"He has a point, dearie," Gothel interrupted, but her voice lacked its usual crispness. "Your exact words were, 'He'd only make a mess of things, slow us down. Forget about him. He won't be a problem.'"

"See? See?" Dagur was gesticulating wildly. He pointed accusingly at the District 2 girl. "You've been covering for him, haven't you?"

"_That's_ what you got from _that_? I was just telling you that he was a screw-up!" Astrid screeched in return.

"He took down four of us in one shot, Astrid dear, leaving us for dead," Gothel interjected mildly, almost distracted. "tNot quite a screw-up move, don't you think?"

"He didn't leave us for-" Astrid broke off abruptly, clamping her mouth shut.

Dagur raised a brow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," she denied aggressively, hastily changing the subject. "He had also the help of that long-haired friend of his." She crossed her arms, challenging them to counter her.

The elder girl's expression turned dark. "Yes. Yes, he did."

Dagur was still unappeased. "Y'know what? I bet you and the Burp guy-"

"_Hiccup_. His name is Hiccup, moron."

"Don't call me moron!"

And it went on and on. Shen could only shake his head in disgust. Usually by this time, his much-despicable but uncomfortably maternal district mate would have given them a passive-aggressive ragging and sent both of them to a corner. However, Gothel seemed to be really out of it today. Ever since they fell into the traps, she had been in an oddly contemplative mood.

All four of them were seated around the infamous 'food pyramid', where their stacked resources have indeed been depleting day by day, but have yet to be exhausted. They were still recovering from the trials from previous nights, though truly they were wounded more in ego than in body.

How could it be that _they_, the prime cut of the tributes, were bested by a scrawny little kid and a frightened girl?

Only by the skin if their teeth did they survive the multitude of reptilian mutts in the Summer Quarter. Yet the relief of survival didn't wash out the shame. All of them felt it keenly.

That, however, didn't mean that they had constantly descend into pointless arguments. Shen made a face of distaste – not that his allies noticed. They were too busy yelling their heads off. In matter of fact, none of them had even noticed what he had been up to for the last hour or so.

The products of his labour were not particularly outstanding in appearance, but any tribute who understood the entirety of his actions would have him shot down at once. Bound together by a piece of strings was an array of aerosol cans – disinfectant, spray-on skin paint, insect repellent, and so on. The string he had also dipped in some alcohol that was meant for wound-cleaning, making it _very, very_ flammable. While his fellow Careers were busy berating each other and comparing levels of stupidity, he was calmly arranging his little bundle of destruction along the dirt ground surrounding the food pyramid.

Gazing at the pile of resources, he pursed his lips together for a moment, thinking. It would be a waste, yes, to have to destroy all these wonderful goodies, but between doing without a little food and ridding himself of this bunch of imbeciles, he'd _really_ rather the latter. It may not be the wisest move - to betray his 'allies' when there were still so many other tributes to kill in the Arena. But the white-haired boy's patience was wearing thin, and he could only stay in Gothel's company for so long without feeling the urge to gorge out her eyes.

For the first time since he had set his little plan into motion did Shen pause. Perhaps he shouldn't do this, after all. A clean blast was a quick death, and Gothel didn't deserve such clemency.

After all, she did ruin his life.

To say that Shen had always been an odd one out amongst his peers was an understatement. His parents were extremely wealthy figures in an already wealthy district, even more so because they owned the factories that produced a special commodity that the Capitol could never do without - fireworks. That wealth often led to envy, and envy led to discrimination.

But his elevated social status was only the tip of the iceberg. In the luxury district which prided itself in producing the best-looking Careers, appearances were everything. And Shen, the sole heir to one of that district's most prominent business industries, was _ugly_.

In his childhood, he had felt keenly. There had always been whispers on the streets by the pitying passer-by, who had come to ogle at his grey-white hair and his paper-pale skin. It had not been that such features was uncommon in his district – the Capitol citizens often colored their hair and their faces in strange colors, and the makers of these cosmetics were too happy to follow suit. The problem had been that his coloring was natural, and in a city of artifice, that's what made it weird.

When he had gotten older, his appearance had become a bigger problem. Admissions in Career Academy had been competitive enough – who didn't want to be a victor, after all?– and being good-looking was a very important criterion for selection, since good-looks usually meant more sponsors from the Capitol.

_And_ that it gave District 1 a chance to show of how aesthetically successful their cosmetic products were to the Capitol_. _Two birds, one stone.

Without any special talent in fighting or even a normal face, he had only managed to enter the academy through his parents' influence. They had been extremely uncertain about his decision; he had always been frail as a child, and such strain on his already weak body would be unwise. They hadn't understood though. This had been, and still was, his destiny – to show Panem that a sickly little boy could be a victor.

It hadn't quite worked out the way he had wantedit though. He had been smaller in size and strength compared to his peers. That, on top his strange appearance and unfair monetary advantage, had made him a target for bullies. His parents had been concerned when he had returned home too often with blue bruises on his white skin, but he had refused to cower.

He had struck back instead.

In an act of seeming graciousness, he had invited his 'playmates' – that being any Career trainee who had ever spoken so much as a derisive word to him - to a party, drawing them with a promise of a treat of his family's famous fireworks.

And he had been true to his word. The firework display that had indeed been the most memorable District 1 had ever seen. More than thirty children died that night.

All had believed it an accident, a tragedy which had stolen a generation' s worth of victor-worthy adolescents. That was until _she_ had started poking around.

He hadn't even met her at that time; she hadn't been a Career. Yet.

It had been fortunate for his parents that she had been (and still was) an unscrupulous little minx, with more interested in profit than justice. Her silence had been duly paid for, and the family reputation had been protected. The misfortune had lain in that his parents had to be informed at all.

On that very day, they had him removed him from career training and pack him off to a remote asylum house, where he had been placed under the close scrutiny of dozens of psychiatrists. 'For his own good', his parents had claimed, but he had known the truth.

They had been, and still were terrified, of him. Ashamed of him. They hated him, so they had him banished.

His world had crumbled in that instant. His ambitions were dashed, his destiny forestalled, his dignity lost. If only that stupid girl had just kept her mouth shut.

He had spent almost year in complete despair and bitterness; towards himself, his parents, and the greedy girl, whose meddling had seemingly devastated his chances of fulfilling his destiny. But he was not one to give up easily. Ambition had been warped into obsession, and his bitterness had become blind resolve.

The first thing he did had been to dye the tips of his hair red – to emphasize his most striking feature rather than to hide it, turning shame into pride. He had then hired the best of combat tutors without his parents' and asylum's knowledge, studiously learning himself in various martial arts, and eventually developing a style of his own. When his body couldn't pushed further, he had exercised his mind, keeping himself to knowledgeable in the sciences and scientific inquiry. Somehow or another, he had found him experimenting with fire, learning to make explosives out of the simplest of materials and finding better use for his parents' beautiful, but impractical, creations.

Which is why he knew that all he need to do kill each of his 'allies' was to simply light up the bundle of aerosol cans at his feet.

The heat from the combustion would be enough to detonate the dozen of presently inactivated mines surrounding the pile of goodies – the very same buried in by the District 3 boy. The massive explosion that followed would then kill the bickering trio.

He was surprised that none of the other Careers had thought of this before. But from after re-enrolling back into Career Training Academy when he was seventeen (a long story on how that happened), he had discovered they didn't exactly train their students to be creative. His own self-education had given him a huge edge over the rest, it seemed. Perhaps he and the District 2 boy had more in common than it appeared. Outcasts and weaklings in the eyes of their home. Disappointment to their families. Severely underestimated.

Digging up a lighter from the supply pile, Shen then picked up the long end of the alcohol-soaked string connected to the stash of cans. With the string in one hand and the lighter in the other, he casually walked away from the food pile, till he was sure that he was standing right outside the circumference of the mines. A scan told him that the Careers sitting around the food heap still had no idea of what was coming, which was fine by him. Without even changing his expression, Shen raised the end of the string and pressed on the lighter, bringing the flickering flame to life.

But still he hesitated. It wasn't guilty conscience, since he was no longer capable of possessing such a thing. It wasn't even pragmatism, though he knew the advantages of working in a team.

It was dissatisfaction. The dissatisfaction of letting _her _die easy.

It wasn't that he hadn't had his shot at revenge, but there were only two things that Gothel loved in the world, and he had only succeeded in taking one of them. His vengeance was only half-fulfilled.

Wasting time considering this eventually allowed for his dilemma to be solved for him.

"Look!" One of the Careers cried, pointing up into the sky.

Shen dropped his arms at once, hoping not to draw attention to himself. He needn't have been worried, for the Careers were much too absorbed in watching the stream of smoking emerging from the Summer Quarter.

"_Awesome!_ It's probably him!" Dagur beckoned his allies excitedly, dashing off into the woods, hooting madly as he did.

Astrid yelled at the scarred boy to wait, an order that was obviously ignored, so she showered him with expletives instead. Gothel wordlessly gathered up some food supply, packing them up before checking the knives on her belt.

In quiet haste, Shen rolled up the string back into a bundle, before dropping back into the stash of cans, muttering curses in his annoyance. It seemed ridding the world of these idiots had to be delayed.

"Shen, c'mon!" The blonde girl called to him. "I need to switch on the defensive field."

He took up his lance-sword and checked his sash of darts. Then he reluctantly joined the two other girls outside the field.

Astrid then removed the small remote controller from her pocket and stabbed the red button. When that button began to glow, the girl shoved it back into her pocket, then turned to the two others. "Let's go."

No further words were said as the Career Pack made their way through the forest, hoping that the smoke would lead them to easy prey. However, Shen's mind was still much occupied, even as he gazed over the shoulders of two Career girls.

He supposed that he would have to be more methodical, kill them off one by one once they've outlived their usefulness. It would be best if Astrid went first – she was the smart one, and might be able to make the quickest counter moves. Dagur was insanely annoying, but largely stupid, so it would be easy enough to take him on later.

As for Gothel, he would leave for the last. Carving out a person's face was fairly tricky, after all.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

"_-Heal what has been hurt, change the fates design,-"_

She examined the brown strands as she sang. Still, they stayed dark in her hands.

"_-Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine." _She paused to take a breath, her eyes still fastened on the hairs she held between her fingers. _"What once was mine."_

As on cue, the gleaming gold turned back into yellow, and the brown hairs in her braid remained unresponsively … _brown_.

That was both confusing and alarming.

Apparently, the Career attack from the day before had not left her unscathed, as she had assumed. When Gothel had slapped a dagger into her braid, it had apparently managed to slice off some of the strands there. In the clump of gold, the brown streak wasn't very noticeable, and it hadn't exactly done her bodily harm, so she had thought it unimportant.

Then that morning, while she and Hiccup had left the cove to collect another fishy gift for their reptilian housemate, she had requested to take a bath, so would he be so kind as she give her some time by herself? The boy had turned pink instantly, stammering some statement which indicated that he was very okay with that, and would make himself as scarce as possible, and then he scrambled off.

She didn't lie; the weather in the Summer Quarter was sweltering, and she was covered in dirt from head to toe, but it wasn't as if she was going to take off her clothes when she washed herself (not that Hiccup needed to know that). She was on national television. Besides, _he_ might be watching, so that would just be super awkward.

Rapunzel pulled a face, then lowered her arms, sighing. She knew from the start that relying on gifts from sponsors would be definitely unwise for any tribute, but she hoped – _had_ hoped that he would drop something – _anything!_ – just to indicate that he was still rooting for her. To know that he was watching at all would be a comfort, especially since thinking that he didn't care hurt. A lot.

Feelings aside, she was okay. She had a smart and trustworthy ally, and her 'magical' hair had proven to be a huge advantage. '_Of course,' _she thought as she glanced at the few brown hairs that drowned into the river of gold flowing from her head, '_the biggest advantage has a huge weakness too.' _She peered at the two cords of unbound hair that hung by the sides of her face. She was going to have to more careful about the treatment of her hair.

Rapunzel took the time remaining alone to wash her face and her arms the stream, then her feet. The scratches had disappeared when she had healed them, but unfortunately it meant that her calluses had too. Perhaps she should just risk the infection and leave her feet alone, if not, walking around on with bare feet was going to forever be a pain.

Out of the blue came a crash and then – "Rapunzel!"

She rose to her feet immediately, reaching for her satchel and whipping out her one of the knives. Another hand held onto a cord of gold, drawn back and ready to snag the possible danger.

Her lanky little ally came stumbling out of the forest, almost rushing into the stream, but catching his balance at the last moment. "Ah! Oh right. Rapunzel, we've got a – oh, Odin's sneakers!" He covered his eyes hurriedly, his freckled face turning crimson. She could tell from a hidden wince that moving his arm still hurt. "Really, really sorry! Should've asked first!" His words were fumbling over each other. "Do you – clothes – a-are you decent?"

She was puzzled at what he could possibly be stuttering about before it struck her. "Oh, yeah, I'm"- she blanched at her ragged attire –"decent, I guess."

"Oh, g-good. _Really, really_ good." Hiccup sighed in relief removed his palms from his still blushing face. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No problem," she answered, because it wasn't as if she was actually at risk of anything. "So, what's the matter?"

"Oh, right." The District 2 boy slipped back into seriousness. "We have a situation."

* * *

Whilst wondering around the Summer Quarter, waiting for Rapunzel to finish up on her 'bath, Hiccup had spent much of his time checking on his dragon traps, gathering more fish for Toothless and examining the nasty-looking gnash on his arm. The wound was closing up, thanks to Toothless saliva. Rapunzel had worn a queasy-expression throughout the entire wound-dressing process, and also a little guilty, despite the numerous times that he had told her that she couldn't have saved him from Astrid's wrath in anyway. She hadn't really taken the words to heart, though.

The trouble really started when he had caught sight of the column of smoke rising from the ground. He had approached with much caution, but whoever started fire had long been gone by then, it seemed. However, it had been the location of the bonfire that shocked him.

The bonfire was smack _in front _of the cove entrance. And that wasn't even the worst part.

A flood of terrifying thoughts had come crashing on his brain, and after he had retrieved his blonde ally (after a rather embarrassing incident), he shared them all.

"It's tall enough for the entire Arena to see," he was gabbling anxiously to her, "which means that the Careers have probably seen it. I'm pretty certain they're on their way."

A worried expression crossed Rapunzel's face. "Then we should put it out at once." She made a motion to return to the stream.

"No!" He gripped on her arm, halting her at her steps. "Putting it out would tell them that someone put it out for a reason." He shook his head, gritting his teeth together as he pondered. The conclusion that came to him wasn't a pleasant one. "We have to leave. The cove. We have to leave the cove."

"What?" Rapunzel was astounded, and very much against the idea. He began marching back to the cove entrance, and she followed hastily, speaking fervently as she did, "Why not just hide in the cove? Wait for this to blow over?"

"Well, for one, we won't be able to get any more fish, and Toothless might decide to eat us. Two -" he trailed off, startled by this new idea. If they left, what would happen to Toothless? He still couldn't fly, and he certainly couldn't fit through the cove entrance, it being far too large for the ebony reptile. Would he starve to death? Would the Gamemakers kill him? An unwarranted shudder attacked Hiccup's bones at that point.

He could hear Rapunzel's voice in the haze. "What's the second reason?"

Since they had arrived right before the bonfire at that moment, he directed her attention to the cliff face behind it. "That will kill us, if nothing else does."

Splotched out in some kind of fruit-based dye, a gigantic red-brown squiggle read, '_Come get me, SUCKERS!'_

The blonde was dumbfounded, much like how he was when he first found it. She dashed towards the graffiti, rubbing against the paint on the walls with her forefinger. "Could we wash it off?"

"Could, but takes too much time, and that's not the worst bit." He gestured towards a certain area of on the graffiti, and she peered carefully at it.

The words appeared to have been painted quickly with a bunch of leaves of a branch, so the vandal had been rushed in doing this, which is why he or she hadn't noticed what he or she had drawn over.

If one stood right in front the cliff face, one could see, thanks to the brown paint, faint lines of the door to the duo's secret hideout. Even worst, the vandal had painted right over the circular keyhole, marking it out quite obviously. Even if the Careers could never enter the cove, there was a chance that they might identify its door, and that was bad enough.

Rapunzel gaped at it. Finally, she conceded, "Okay, we need to leave."

Sliding his armband into the keyhole, both of them entered the shaft, scrambling through the ravine, almost tripping over their own feet in the dimness. They quickly hurried down to the cove, fortunately not tumbling into the lake the way he had on his first entrance. Rapunzel hastily grabbed some of the rope he had left lying around, stuffing it into her satchel. He grabbed his self-made water bottle and his hammer, which he passed to her for keeping. Then he picked up the book.

Instinctively, Hiccup's eyes went to the black reptile.

The creature was watching them guardedly as ever, but there was a curious expression in his eye, almost anxious. The Night Fury was an intelligent beast, and he must have understood that the scrambling children could very well mean the end of his fillet-buffet. However, even as Rapunzel and himself darted toward the cove exit, the dragon made no move towards them. Instead, Toothless gave what seemed to be an unhappy harrumph, swiveling himself till only his back faced the duo, swishing his tail in their faces.

_The tail_… Hiccup felt the remorse slapping him in the face again. The night where the Night Fury had first fired the four plasma blasts was still clear as day in his mind, but he had learned so much about the creature since then – and boy, that was a lot. It was like rewriting an entire textbook in his brain, because literally, _everything_ he had ever thought and been taught of dragons was wrong. They weren't mindless killers, even the ones programmed by the Gamemakers. They were grand, beautiful creatures with their own feelings and hopes. He could remember too well staring into the Night Fury's large green eye as he held the drill high over the creatures' head; the fear just came gushing out from the creature like a damn. At that moment, looking straight into the beast's eye, it was as if … he saw _himself_.

Two caged birds, yearning to escape this game.

The words came to him without thinking. "I'm not leaving."

"What!" Rapunzel exclaimed, her face writing clear her astonishment. "But you just said that we should leave!"

"Yeah, we should," the auburn-haired boy admitted ruefully, rubbing his neck, but in his heart, he knew that his decision was made. "You should go. I'm staying." He eyed the frayed membrane attached to the stem of the tail. "I did this. It's my responsibility."

To make clear his resolution, Hiccu[ sat on the ground, hugging the book his chest, never lifting his gaze from the black reptile. He expected to hear the blonde sighing and leaving.

But instead there came a hesitant question. "If I can fix his tail, could we leave?"

He glanced at her sharply, still taking in her words.

She repeated, "If I can fix his tail, could we leave?"

Blinking, he nodded slowly.

"Okay, I need you to do exactly as I say…"

The instructions that she gave him following that were indeed mysterious. She explained that she needed to sneak up on his tail, but Toothless didn't trust her much, so she needed him to distract the Night Fury for a while, making sure that he kept still at certain spot. He understood the sneaking and distracting part, but what exactly Rapunzel was planning still escaped him. Nevertheless, he didn't question them – they were on a tight schedule, after all.

"Oh, um, I might sing something. Yeah"

That _really_ didn't make any sense. "Sing?"

"A song. Yeah. Try not to freak out."

_Okay…._

As he approached the dragon again, he was still troubled as of how to distract it. He had caught some fish that morning, but he had lost it careless after he had seen the bonfire – probably gobbled up by the terrible terrors by now. He had nothing on hand but the book, but unless Toothless found information on other muttations very fascinating, there was nothing he could do with it.

Then it struck him. The book! Of course!

He stopped when he was roughly seven feet away from the black creature. The dragon had raised its head, shooting him another questioning look, probably wondering why the duo hadn't left yet.

"Hi," he told the beast, his voice sounding rather squeaky.

The creature batted his lids. If reptiles could frown, he was definitely frowning. He made a jabbering sound from the back it throat, then nodding at the lake.

It took a while for Hiccup to understand. "Oh, sorry. Didn't catch any fish today. Yeah, um…" In the periphery of his vision, he could see the blonde stealthily making her way to the back of the dragon. "Um, could I …er, ask you something?"

The dragon gave him a sidelong glance, almost as if he thought him loony for talking to an animal. Even Rapunzel, who creeping towards the beast's tail, was giving him odd looks. He made a nervous chuckle, taking the book in hand and sliding cautiously towards the reptile.

Toothless must have caught a whiff of the book at that moment, because he had lurched back at once, and Hiccup noted with a cringe that his tail had almost whacked Rapunzel at that time. The girl was quick to recover, however, crawling quietly on her knees towards the tail, and …bringing a lock of hair towards it.

He really didn't know what's going on.

Removing his gaze from his ally, lest the giant lizard realize that the blonde was behind him, he began flipping through the book. He couldn't help scanning the beast's expression every now and then. The beast appeared uneasy at the sight of the book, but it also seemed curious about whatever he was doing.

He finally found the page he was looking for. Gently, he placed the book to the ground, checking that the dragon didn't seem too adverse to the idea. He then removed the charred stick which he had strapped the cover of the book, pressing its tip to the blank page marked with nothing but the words _Night Fury_.

He swallowed. "Do-do you mind if I…draw you?"

Hiccup foresaw the quizzical look and the silent stare, but he really didn't expect Toothless to _nod_. It was like he could really understand what was being said.

He couldn't help the surge of elation. "Great! Um, please don't move. Yeah."

The boy set to work immediately. He started off with outlining the creature's angular skull, drawing in the ears, then the fins. With this done, he added a set of triangular looking eyes on both sides of the head. He tried to draw as slowly as he could, as to buy Rapunzel some time. He could hear her light voice singing softly in the background, and he really, really wanted to lift his head and see whatever on Earth she was doing. But that would end up giving her away to the dragon, so he resisted the temptation.

The picture was a simple one, and it was seconds when he had completed it. Toothless twisted his head about to see it for himself, and gave what seemed to an approving croon.

"You like it, huh?" Hiccup grinned, turning the book around to give it a better view. The dragon, however, drew back at once, hissing vehemently at the Muttation Manual. He heard a restrained yelp from his blonde companion. When he peered surreptitiously her way, she signaled him to keep going, whilst she struggled to pick herself up from the grass, untangling herself from her hair, which happened to wrapped around …

He forced himself to look at the dragon instead, who was still snarling at the book, his manner half-fierce, half-wary. The boy slowly withdrew the book from the beast, and the heavy breaths were eased at once. Nonetheless, Toothless still gave the book hard looks.

"What's the matter, bud?" he asked the creature, wishing truly that he could speak dragon. Dragonese. Whatever.

The beast snorted disdainfully at the book, which didn't explain anything at all. Then a thought occurred to Hiccup. He closed the book, turning it back to its front cover, where there was engraved the title 'Muttation Manual.'

The dragon began growling with new anger, such that the scrawny boy quickly lift the book, ready to cast it away when he saw what lay right under the title.

It was the Capitol Crest.

The conversation that he had with Rapunzel the previous morning came knocking at the door of his mind, and he found himself deliberating more deeply on the ideas she had suggested.

"The Capitol hurt you before, haven't they?" he asked in a low tone, sympathetic.

The reptile seemed surprised at the question, turning his face away, but in doing so, Hiccup was given a closer view of the scars that marred the creatures' gleaming black scales.

The boy sighed, dropping the book some distance away. "I know how you feel."

The creature still had its head turned away, but his green eyes had strayed back to Hiccup.

"I'm sorry."

That earned the beast full attention. He swung back his head, his green eyes glued to the boy.

Part of Hiccup was completely and utterly flipped, but the other half was just calm. Fortunately the other half was taking the reins right now, because the boy was understanding less and less of what he was saying. "I know you probably hate humans. Humans have hurt you. _I _" – the words were tumbling out like a landslide, and he was starting to lose control – "have hurt you. And I understand if you can't ever fully trust me, but -"

The boy was at a lost at how to continue, as if the words were sticking to his throat. But maybe words weren't quite the language the dumb beast understood, and perhaps actions instead more apt. So, Hiccup awkwardly got to his feet, holding his hand towards the beast, as he had done so often before. The creature flinched away, blinking, but not quite recoiling.

The boy drew his hand back, staring in the deep sea of green. Thinking for a moment, he stretched out his hand again, but this time he turned his head away.

It wasn't a wise thing to do. The dragon might suddenly decide to eat him, or turning to a pile of ash, or just grab him by the collar, use his tail like a baseball bat and swat him off into the heavens. But not for a second did the boy dwell on these possibilities.

For though the beast could never fully trust him, the boy fully trusted the beast.

Well, trust was a strong word, and Hiccup's bravado was fading by the seconds. So just when being turned into dragon chow became an increasingly believable consequence, he suddenly found a warm sensation running on his palm.

His eyes opened in disbelief, he was greeted with the sight of the Night Fury, with his eyes closed, pressing his snout against the human hand. The black lids then parted, and Toothless pulled his head away.

There was a pause, a short one, in which their eyes met, and from that moment, Hiccup couldn't explain it, but it felt as if they were… _bonded_.

That was weird. And what happened next was just weirder still.

"_-been lost, bring back what was mine.-"_

In the quiet, the small voice could be heard now clearly, both by boy and beast.

"_-What once was mine."_

Both heads turned instantly to the blonde, who seated by the Night Fury's tail, and her hair was wrapped around it.

Correction. _Shining, glowing _golden hair.

Just as the light from the cords dimmed, the girl raised her head, finding two set of eyes fixed on her. She swallowed.

The reptile snapped out of his docile behavior, spreading his wings out suddenly, swinging his tail fiercely about. Rapunzel gave a squeal, yanking hard on her hair, which was still knotted around its stem..

"Easy, Toothless!" Hiccup called to the beast, trying to soothe him when noting that his ally's distress. The girl did one last hard pul, before the golden strands cords fell back to her feet. That was when Hiccup realized that Toothless now had not one, but _two_ perfectly whole tail fins. Any reminder of the frayed skin had completely vanished.

He looked at his ally, his mouth hanging open.

Toothless expressed his surprise in another fashion. His aggression having dissipated, he shifted his weight from feet to feet, adjusting him to the feeling of having his tail back again. The dragon gave Hiccup one last look, then he spread his wings out.

All Hiccup could register was a black blur and a gust of wind slapping him in the face. The creature was gone.

Of the two teenagers, Rapunzel was the first to recover from the abrupt departure. "C'mon. The Careers would be here any moment."

Hiccup broke from his daze, his feet eventually picking themselves off the grass to following the girl's steps. His eyes were still on the skies, but there was no signs of the Night Fury. Toothless had really left. Somehow, he felt as if a void was closing in around him, as if he had lost something he had just gained. Would he ever see the obsidian dragon again? But he reminded himself to be glad for Toothless. His debt was paid, and at least one caged bird was free.

He couldn't help but rub against the palm which the beast had rested its snout against, trying to remember that precise feeling. Using his other arm to pick up the strewn Muttation Manual, he inhaled sharply when he jostled the wounded arm again.

"I'll get that fixed when we've settled again, okay?" He heard Rapunzel say. She seemed a whole lot more relaxed, as if she had just dropped off a heavy load.

He nodded, not quite comprehending what she implied. It was only one they were clambering through the ravine again that it hit him.

"Wait a second. So when you _sing_, your hair _glows_, and you can _heal stuff_?"

"…Yes?"

It took all of his self-control to _not_ faint right there and then.

* * *

**S/N: **

**The song Vanellope sings is '**_**Shut up and Drive'**_** by Rhianna, which played in **_**Wreck-it Ralph**_** whilst she's learning how to drive. (Btw, the one she sings during Merida's bear attack recovery is '**_**When Can I See You Again'**_** by Owl City, also from the **_**Wreck-it Ralph**_** film.**

**So, the Forbidden Friendship scene finally happens!**

**It just occurred to me that some readers may have never watched **_**Kung Fu Panda 2, **_**and may have no idea who Shen is. So here's a bio. Alternatively, you can watch the first two minutes of KFP2, which pretty much sums him up better than I do.**

_District 1 Male:_

_Lord Shen is the main antagonist of KFP2. Once a peacock prince, he committed genocide in an attempt to escape the prophecy of his defeat. After years of banishment, he returns to his home city with a weapon of his own invention – cannons, from the fireworks with his parents invented. With his wolf army and his cannons, he intends to wipe out Kung Fu and conquer China._

**He may be playing a fairly important role in the future (that much should be gathered from the fact I wrote 2000 words worth of backstory. So yes, he's about as important as Turbo or Gothel in this story). If you have questions on why I decided to give a somewhat obscure villain a big role, my reasons are on my profile (along with a whole lot of other rubbish in which I try to convince you to watch KFP 2. Just be glad I didn't make him President Snow – because it was tempting!). And for this story, I have indeed entwined his backstory with Gothel's, because…crossover. That's the fun, and it really stretched by creativity.**

**By the way, I'm not sure if I've ever told y'all this…but can anyone guess why I put Gothel and Shen in the same district, and that district being District 1? (Or if I mentioned it before, just answer. Haha. And other than this being a massive crossover.)**

**Up Next: The Chapter is called 'Calculated Snares'. A familiar scene from THG would be playing out, but its own twists. The beginning of the Darkness begins here.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**I have no comment about my life. So here's a super long chapter. **

**Question: Do you guys like short chapter better or long chapters? I could cut the word count if it's preferred (but the chapters numbers would then hit beyond 50).**

**Mailbox:**

**AmyMilo: Jack will get powers at some point -a deviated version, of course - but the wait for it will be quite long. Sorry about that, but having two mutants in the Arena is a bit overkill already, so I'm trying to keep them manageable. (but your suggestions are very interesting indeed…)**

**waveringshadow: The minotaur comment made me laugh! Yes, that happens to me a lot. Out of the all the Careers, Astrid is one of the best, but also the only one with (positive) relations with another tributes, and that makes her such a fun character to play with. And I love angry Astrid - reminds me of how I like to be sometimes - destructive and insane.**

**Blarble: Thanks for pointing out the hair thing. I didn't really think about that - so the hair cut bit in Rapunzel's POV is thanks to you. She needs to find out that cut hair loses its power, anyway. And things are really going start blowing up soon. Promise. **

**that one evil girl: Thanks lots! My ego has been repaired!**

**Awesomaniatica: You should try out pranking chappies sometime. There's a problem when it gets addictive though (I'm tempted to write a follow up to he prank chapter, but eh, it ain't Fool's day no more). Hiccup had to face Astrid sometime or another. Wait, Mordu? Where? Haha, I can safely tell you Gothel doesn't know anything about Rapunzel, but there are reasons for the way she , only four careers left, but they don't really need to guard the place coz'…defense system. Yep. For Jack's powers, he will get that at some point, just still not now…or in a long. For which Jack would undoubtedly be mad at me for. There are big things coming, so yes! Stay tuned.**

**A Fangirl (chap 28): It's real nice to know that this prank brings some laughs, so thanks! You made my day too.**

**clara0414: Thank you for your super long review. When I first started writing this, Gothel's role was going to be a lot smaller, but even the movie Gothel is a very complex character (is she more a mother or a kidnapper? Still heavily debated) and it took me like 5 drafts of various to nail down her backstory and motivations. What Eugene is doing stealing stuff would be made clear either in the next chapter or the one after that - it's actually quite simple. Thank for your honesty concerning Team J.E., and after re-reading the last chapter, I guess they are lacking a special something after all. The problem with them is that their first major story arch happened pretty early in the Games, and their next big one would be coming much only later (right now the story archs are focusing on Hiccup, Rapunzel and Merida). I hope by then their relationship would have been fixed up. Nonetheless, I'm still contemplating on how I can build the relationship better before that arch anyway. Glad that Hiccup and Astrid stuff worked better about typos. I use the Word online app on ipad, which is not as responsive so squiggly lines could appear at certain scrolling. (And some the autocorrect ends up insert very strange things) I usually do one last Microsoft Word check on the com before publishing, but sometimes it still slips pass my vision regardless. Sorry about that.**

**I think I'm done here folks, so y'all next week. If we're lucky (which is unlikely)**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	31. Chapter 29: Calculated Snares

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 29: Calculated Snares

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

"HOW DARE HE!" The deranged boy screamed, stomping and swearing, slicing his blade repeatedly in the air. "I WILL NOT BE MOCKED!"

Shen was the complete opposite of other male in the party, being a picture of reservation and impassivity. At the most, he was somewhat annoyed. "It appears that they were playing us for fools, and we fell for it."

Astrid was strangely quiet as she examined the bonfire, then the scrawled insults on the cliff. "I'm not sure that is Hiccup's handiwork. It's not his style."

"Oh, really?" Dagur made derisive snort, approaching the girl with his blade still raised high. "And is there anything else you would like divulge to us about your _precious _Hiccup?"

The blonde barred her teeth, heaving her axe over her shoulder. "Talk to me like that one more time, and heads start rolling. Starting with _yours_."

"For crying out loud, would you mangling cretins shut up!" The two younger Careers were taken aback at the fierce holler from the usually mild-mannered District 1 girl. A maddened expression contorting her beautiful face, she brushed past their shoulders roughly.

Dagur watched with her uncharacteristic wryness, before remarking to the blonde he had just been arguing with, "Someone's feeling ugly today."

The younger girl nodded, in equally uncharacteristic agreement.

Gothel ignored them both as she approached the cliff. Peering up in the graffiti at the walls, she carefully slid down the stony slope to take a closer loo. Behind her, she heard a buzz of conversation behind her – about her, no doubt, but years of receiving such treatment back home, she was quite immune to the opinion of her peers. She gave her fullest attention to her examination of the brown paint. Rubbing some of it on her finger, she sniffed it. There was a fruity sort smell to it, mixed with a touch of tree sap and damp bark. _Damp _… That wasn't really quite a feature of the hot, dry Summer Quarter, was it?

Striding alongside the rock ledge, she slowed her steps to examine something that caught her eye. Between the crude dashes of paint, she noted that there were the faintest white lines behind the stains. Tracing her fingers along those lines, she found herself humming in surprise when they drew out a rectangular shape, and that the lines ran straight all the way down to the ground. It was like a…

Tentatively, she pressed the side of her head to the wall, rapping against it. A familiar vibration of what seemed to be metal against air met her ears, and she drew herself back in surprise. A hollow front - this was curious indeed.

She heard Astrid inquire, "Found anything?"

Gothel was about to answer, but then her eye caught sight of another white shape in a splash of brown. If one stood right in front of it, its distinct outline could be easily seen.

A perfect circle, engraved on the wall.

A dam of confusion sprung open in her mind. Who on earth when around carving perfect circles on random walls? Unless the circle _wasn't_ carved and the wall _wasn't_ random at all.

Gothel couldn't imagine what this could imply, but she knew that this wasn't something she would want to readily reveal to her allies. She would keep mum on this for now, find out more about it, then see if she could use it to her advantage in anyway.

Turning around, she brushed the dust off her hands indifferently. "Nothing here, darlings, save that the paint seems to be some plant extract. Doesn't look like it was made in this Quarter though."

"How would you know?" Dagur asked suspiciously, while the black-haired girl made her way back up the pebbly incline.

"Because Gothel happens to be quite an expert on botanics," of Shen put in unexpectedly. He gave a sidelong glance at his District mate. "Isn't that right?"

Whilst flicking the remnants of sand from her fingers, Gothel was almost overtaken by the temptation to hammer a dagger into the white-haired boy's temple. How his words made her ears burn. However, getting a grip of her nerves, she simply beamed warmly instead. "Why, yes, Shen _dear_. Why else do you think I'm such a _wonderful_ cook?"

The boy scowled, swinging himself away contemptuously, while the two other tributes merely glanced at one another and shrugged.

"What is it with you two?" Dagur furrowed his brow. When Gothel was about to speak, he then held his palm out. "Oh, wait. I don't actually care."

The elder girl rolled her eyes heavenward at the puerility, which is why she was the first to see more grey fumes cast over the beautiful blue sky.

"Another column. Four o'clock."

The careers angled their heads to that direction. The smoke wasn't that far away, which meant it was still in the Summer Quarter

"It's probably another trick. Or trap," mused the District 2 girl pessimistically, flicking her bangs back.

"Ooooh, is someone scared?" Dagur mocked her brazenly – and unwisely.

The blonde girl's eyes narrowed to slits, throwing her axe off her shoulder and putting both hands to it handle. The scarred boy showed no fear. Instead, he grinned smugly, his own hand resting on his sword hilt. "Want to take it out right now, _Flower girl_?"

Astrid's countenance darkened several shades as she emitted an incensed growl, her axe poised up high. It was only the light touch of Gothel on her shoulder that stopped her at all.

"Save it, dearie. Work first, vengeance later." The dark-haired was referring to Dagur, but somehow or another she ended up looking at her district mate instead.

"Let's go," he said, still undistracted, sweeping back into the thorny forest. Dagur followed behind, pulling a face at Astrid before he scrambled off, leaving her stomping madly. The firm grip by the District 1 girl was all that kept her from chasing him down and giving him a taste of her metal.

"Just remember, dearie," Gothel muttered, so softly that it seemed that she was talking to herself. "All good things come to those who wait."

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

Her boots were still damp from her trek through the Cornucopia grounds. It had apparently started snowing there, though for what reasons Merida didn't know. She suspected that it was something to do with the wild ice during the Bloodbath period, but she wouldn't be able to imagine what it was. She had left too early.

Crossing the metal horn had been a tense venture; she had been out in the open, her black grab glaringly obvious against white backdrop. It had also been a painful one; she had remembered the screams and cries. Children slaughter in the pools of blood and the ferocity and fear that marred each expression, one of which had been the crazy blonde nutjob who had saved her life.

_For him. For her District. _She reminded herself.

Arriving at the Spring Quarter brought her new relief and anxiety in equal part: relief to finally acquire cover from the woods and a much needed drink of water from a spring, and anxiety that she might finally run into the Careers, after having been so fortunate to have avoided them for most part of during the Games.

Well, besides the part where the axe-wielder from District 2 had tried to slice her up.

She followed Vanellope's instructions to the letter; find the central stream, and go upstream from there. Look for a shrub growing sweet-smelling daphnes and turn right, towards the big, twisted birch. Climb down a gentle hill, until she found herself near a meadow growing dahlias and daisies. In there, spot the huge cliff, and she would find the Career camp just below its overhang.

While it had been tempting to take a closer look at the infamous supply pile, Merida focused on the next set of instructions first. Bending down, then creeping stealthily around and under the brilliant green overgrowth, she found the little copse that Vanellope spoke of. Indeed, it gave a perfect view of the food pyramid while keeping her out of sight from the Careers. Her heart thude against her chest as she crouch down, her bow in her wounded left arm.

Pretend that the pyramid didn't hold a dozen of deadly weapons. Pretend that these tributes weren't twice as strong as she. She was the hunter now, not them.

Her eyes feasted first on the pile itself. Clothes. Camping equipment. Bags. Food - that made her mouth water. The sugared buns from the Capitol seemed so far away. Some of those canned biscuits would be much appreciated – but that wasn't her purpose for coming.

She assessed the Careers quickly. The white-haired boy from District 1 was doing something with a string, walking quietly away from the food fashion-plate of a district mate was dully preening at herself. The scarred boy from District 4 ewas having a shouting match with the District 2 girl.

She entertained the thought of shooting an arrow through the blonde girl's head, but that would just earn her unwanted attention from the rest of the pack.

The District 4 girl wasn't there, which was expected since she was already de-_out_. The District 2 boy – that was fishbone fellow, wasn't it? - she supposed they must have kicked him out earlier on.

It was only a few minutes later that the bait was thrown in.

"Look! "

The Career all turned their gazes towards the billowing stream of smoke rising from the adjacent quarter. Merida grinned, because it would look good on camera, and because she was knew who was the miscreant behind it.

"Awesome! It's probably him!" She heard the District 4 boy cry in delight, grabbing his heavy blade and dashing into the forest.

'_Him?' _Merida wondered. Possibly another tribute they were hunting. Well, no matter to her, as long they were leaving.

The remaining Careers picked up their weapons quickly; the District 2 girl her axe and the last girl her daggers. Merida hardly caught any of the conversation at all. The District 2 girl calling the District 1 boy from the pile, who was dropping a bundle of string into some cans to the ground. The boy had taken up his longsword and joined his two allies. There were a few words exchanged whilst the District 2 girl fiddled with something in her coat. Then Pack finally disappeared into the forest.

Merida let out the breath she didn't know she held. With the immediate threat out of present vicinity, the fog in her brain lifted and she began to move.

Then she halted herself just when she straightened her knees, sinking herself down quickly. Staring at the empty Career camp, it suddenly struck her that it was so … _empty. _

She gazed at it in bewilderment. Could the Careers have forgotten to leave a guard? She shook head. The Careers weren't the sharp blades in the drawer, but they had common sense. They wouldn't have left all those lovely goodies undefended.

_Then what?_ Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, scanning around her furtively. Could there be a Career hiding in the forestry, watching and waiting for the next fool to raid the stock pile? But the meadow was largely open land, and the nearest bit of foliage around it was the copse that she hid from. And as far as she could see, she didn't have any company. Deciding that perhaps the Careers were truly morons and luck was on her side, Merida poised herself forward, ready to dash forward into the open.

But someone else moved first.

He was the redheaded boy from District 12, the one who had the whole 'star-crossed lovers' drama, which was a ridiculous affair, Merida had thought to herself. His hiding spot had been behind a stone face at the base of the huge cliff – a rather good one, since she hadn't noticed it at all. Quickly, she slipped herself behind the green cover, her eyes fixed on him.

The boy surveyed the area rapidly. Since the only person in the close proximity was well hidden in the foliage, he dared to move further forward, approaching the food pyramid, but not quite dashing towards it. His eyes were kept on the ground.

Sweet epiphany found Merida. He was looking forward _booby traps. _Why hadn't she thought of that earlier?

The boy glanced around once more for caution, then took a hop into the dirt packed ground surrounding the pile. It seemed that there was some kind of code or pattern in the way he moved; a careful shift to the left, a leap toward the right, two steps forwards at a time, then one back. Merida frowned, squinting hard at the ground, then at the District 12 boy. It piqued her interest at how such a pretty boy was able to work out the complicated steps through the traps. She watched him hard, trying to memorize his steps, but eventually it was too much for her to remember.

At one landing, he lost his balance, falling forward. He swore a loud oath when his palms hit the dirt, but nothing happened. She heard the boy muttered thanks to the heavens as he picked himself up, launching himself forward for the last time before landing safely in front of the supply pile.

The way he acted…

She frowned, running her fingers across her lip unconsciously as she did. She had seen the Careers hanging around the immediate circumference of the supply pile without a care, yet the District 12 boy had to chose such a difficult path to get through apparent booby traps there. This didn't add up.

Merida eyed the dirt-packed ground – that had to be a clue. In a meadow of flowers galore, making a dirt ground just to stack their supplies would be way too much effort. The Careers uprooted the grass, maybe to dig up something. But dig up _what_?

The redheaded boy, having filled his pockets with some of the goodies, now began to make his way from the pile through the calculated leaps and jumps over the dirt ground. At one point, he stopped his exit, stooping down to peer carefully at the dirt, then changing his path again.

Something was nagging Merida at the back of her head. The bits of the dialogue that she caught from the departing Careers came floating back into her pool of thought, but they were still all in fragments. The voice of the District 2 girl was ringing her heard, even if only a few words at a time. "C'mon…switch…field."

'_Field'_? Maybe that was referring to the meadow, so that was no help. But '_switch'_? Switch _on_? _Off_?

Then it came to her – the dirt-packed ground was there not because the Careers were digging up for something, but because they were _burying _something. Something that had a switch – probably an electrical switch. Something that would make the District 12 boy panic when he landed on the wrong spot.

Like an electrically-controlled minefield.

How the Careers got the mines, or even _conceived_ the idea, was something Merida couldn't fathom, but she was certain that she was right.

The District 12 boy had successfully navigated himself through the maze, and now he fled the camp completely, dashing into the open grasslands, looking behind him every so often. In a blink, he was gone.

Now was her move.

She examined the area again, seeking for maybe a rock slide, or a redirect-able water fall, but there was nothing. There was a pleasant little lake nearby. Unless she was thinking crossing over the minefield, picking up an armful of goodies at a time, crossing back, then dumping the booty into the waters, the lake was just unhelpful.

She allowed herself to creep closer, to scrutinize the individual objects in the pile. Fruits, tents, weapons, coats, mats…nothing that could help her destroy the Career Pack's life.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted another column of smoke swelling above the Summer Quarter. The Careers would probably start getting suspicious by now. Soon, they might opt to ditch the wild goose chase and return to camp, so she needed to take action now.

Her attention returned to the ground and then it clicked. _The minefield itself! Of course! _She could use the minefield blow up the food pile!

_Well…_therein lay another problem. Scattering a couple of rocks on the field would probably set off a bunch of individual detonations, but leave the pile untouched. She would have achieved nothing, and the Careers would be zooming back at the sound of the explosions. She needed to make a single, powerful blastin hopes of setting of a chain reaction that may just blow everything to kingdom come. Maybe with a lit arrow, she could hit an oil barrel or something. Not that her chances of hitting an oil barrel by firing blind into the supply pile would work.

Her eyes suddenly lit up. Oil barrels, no, but _cans…_

The District 1 boy had been hovering over a stack of cans before he left. They didn't look much food cans, being far too thin in width. They looked more like sprays.

_Aerosol _sprays - also known as nice, _inflammable_ stuff.

She quickly located the stack of cans in question – sure enough, they were in her shooting range. Then, she got down to her knees, scraping through the grass for anything that she might use as a flint. The problem was that since the Spring Quarter had such perfect weather, its terrain structure was so 'soft' - there was hardly a pebble in sight. Nada. Zilch.

In frustration, she struck her left fist against the ground. A reproachful shot of fire through her arm was instant. Cursing and rubbing her burning arm for the next two minutes, it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't need a lit arrow at all. The Careers have already been so kind as to provide her with the method to their downfall, including the flames.

Rising to her feet, she notched an arrow, pulling back the bow string, inhaling as she did. Narrowing her eyes to the target, she released the projectile.

It sliced through the silent air, smacking into the hard dirt ground with a _thwack!._ It was a good shot, landing a few inches of where the cans were, but nothing happened.

Merida gave an unsatisfied huff as she loaded another arrow. Her left arm was still very resistant to how she was handling it, but she was far too engrossed in her task to bother. Taking fire again, the next shot struck few inches in front of the previous shot, but again, all was still at peace.

For the third time, she drew an arrow reluctantly from her already shrunken ammunition. Taking in a slow breath, she drew it back till its fletching brushed against her cheek.

And she waited. She waited for the stress to abate. She waited for the sting in her sprained arm to turn to numbness. She waited till there was nothing on her mind but a breeze batting against her curls and her target.

Her fingers unfurled, and the arrow flew.

She heard it hit the mine before she saw it, and even when she saw it, all she really could register in her vision was the fiery detonation. The burbling flames licked around the aerosol cans greedily.

The second blast was something she neither heard nor saw. All she could do was feel. Feel the metal foils rupture in the heat and splutter in the dirt. Feel the entire ground rumble in successive eruption, plastic and tin and fabric just flying everywhere-. Feel her body flung through the air, her flight only ceasing when her back slammed against something hard – a tree trunk, probably.

She was lying flat against grass, a whimper escaping her throat when she moved. She tried to get up, but somehow she was unable to will her crying muscles to do so. She could feel the hot air rushing over her face, and a hard crane of the neck allowed her to find the peaceful meadow beneath the rocky overhang transformed into an image of incandescent mayhem.

The pain was too great, and Merida felt herself slipping into the darkness.

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

Everything was just cold, cold, and cold.

Hiro rubbed his fingers together, blowing on them together, his breath turning instantly to mist. He would have stayed in the warm, lichen-covered valley behind the mountain face, if it wasn't for the volley of smoke rising in the horizon. A rough estimation led him to conclude that it was coming from the Spring Quarter, and the sound of the explosion told him that his finely-constructed minefield had finally destroyed itself. How all of it had gone boomed in a single shot, well, that, he couldn't fathom.

But if the minefield had gone completely combust, and the Career supplies had gone with it, events of the Games may be going downhill soon. Disregarding himself in the count, he had only chosen two out of the remaining four – or rather, remaining three.

Nonetheless, if the tribute numbers started plunging for real, he won't be able to save anyone if he didn't get to it. So it was time to initiate phase two.

He bent himself down, sticking a cold hand into a pile of freshly fallen snow. Scraping off the snow as he dragged fingers into it, he didn't stop until there was a visible circle drawn into it. He examined it a few times, trying to estimate whether the mini-cameras that surrounded him would be able to record it after all.

Brushing the snow off his fingers, he turned around, taking a long, long trek back to the huge mountain face he had first arrived at two days ago. Running his stiff fingers along the icy wall, he finally found the engraving he was looking for. He then lifted his left arm, withdrew the silver armband, then slotted it into the hole.

At once, the icy façade gave way to reveal a hollow shaft, and he hurried inside, glad to be back in the warmth. Of course, it wasn't much warmer, and it was lacking in both food and water, but he was not one to fuss. He had a job to do here, and he was going to do it right. And whining was useless anyway.

After all, blind-spots have never been designed for long-term habitation.

* * *

**Capitol – Ministerial House**

"Mr. Rider?"

The handsome young man looked up.

"The minister will see you now."

Eugene rose from the comfortable velvet chair, shuffling his way around the marble tea table before joining the attendant. There had been a spread of dishes laid out in the fancy glassware, but he hadn't touched it at all. He was far too nervous; in the unlikely scenario where he had seriously misjudged the Minister's character, Flynn might just happen to get condemned before Eugene.

As he followed the Capitol attendant, he noticed that she was wringing her hands together, darting glances at him occasionally.

Looking her over quickly, he asked casually, "Rider fan?"

The attendant swallowed awkwardly. Then, she nodded.

Eugene laughed as they strode down the corridor. He removed a marker that he always kept in the inside of his vest, then said, "Got something to write on?"

The attendant stared at him as if he had just offered her the world. The next moment she broke into a fluster, hurriedly looking for something on her bright pink person for any write-on-able material. Eugene smiled slightly – he was quite used to this by now.

When they finally arrived outside the minister's office, the attendant managed to produce a napkin and presented it to him. He took it without a word. "To whom do I address this to?"

"Celia." The attendant answered, combing the violet dreadlocks around her head in nervousness.

He applied the name accordingly and scribbled his adopted name accordingly. When he returned the napkin to her, she was practically jumping and down in elation.

"Oh." She blushed when she realized her lack of decorum, quickly composing herself. "The Minister is waiting for you."

"Great. I'll let myself. No worries," he assured her with a wink. The attendant giggled, clutching the napkin close to her. She then went prancing down the corridor, saying to herself, "Just wait till I show Goo-goo-lie Bear!"

Eugene snickered to himself as he watched the girl's delight, but that died away into bitterness. This was the fate of the Capitol-born; lolling in extravagance, raving over the latest trend, gushing over the victors. It was a hollow, material life, but it was safe.

He grimaced when he peered down at the file hidden too in his vest as he replaced his marker.

Well, safer.

Turning the knob and pushing at it, he was greeted by a cold voice. "I would appreciate it if you'd leave my receptionist be, Mr. Rider. She happens to actually be attached to a man of considerable standing and character."

Eugene brushed off the jibe – he was quite used to them too, unfortunately. "Perish the thought, Minister Corona," he answered in a light tone, shutting the door, then dropping into a chair without permission. "I would never do something as terribly as tear apart true love."

The politician grunted disbelievingly, laying aside the files on his table, arranging his stationary out in straight rows. He was not a fearsome man on sight; to many he was the very soul of gentility, but he was a very serious man who had little time for flippant characters. Flippant characters like Flynn Rider.

"Why are you here, Rider?" The Capitol official got straight to the point. "And know that I will have security throw you out if you are just wasting my time."

Eugene made a dry laugh, reclining himself in the seat whilst swinging his left ankle over his right knee. "You always think the worst of me, don't you, my good Minister?"

The politician made no attempt to deny this."You're a cad and a player, so forgive me if I do."

Eugene smiled again, but the laughter didn't reach his eyes. He shrugged in seeming nonchalance, replying, "Well, I am many things, Minister Corona – many terrible things, but I" -he gestured flamboyantly at himself - "happen to also to be a man of my word."

The minister's brow shot up questioningly.

"Well, at least, when it suits me," the brunette man amended as an afterthought. "Of course, this isn't about me," he went on hurriedly to cover his mistake. "No, it's about _you_."

"Me?" Minister Corona was forever the epitome of skepticism in the presence of the Capitol's most fashionable man, it seemed.

"Yes, sir, you." The younger man's expression suddenly became as severe as the minister's own. "I believe, sir, that you have pledged a considerable sum to my mentee, but have failed to come through with it." He smiled at the elder man, but there was no cheer in the smile. "Not something a man of 'standing and character' should do, I imagine?"

The minister was taken aback, whether it was by the accusation itself or the tone, Eugene could not ascertain, but there was no mistake of conflict in the man's visage. Nonetheless, the latter collected himself, returning to steeliness in seconds. "You withheld information about the girl. If it had known that she was a mutant, my wife and I would have never offered to sponsor her at all."

"Have you been watching the Games, sir?" Eugene couldn't hold back the tint of frustration in his speech. "Rapunzel hadn't known about her own power till the Games. And that's beside the point, Minister. _You_"- he pointed at the elder man – "approached _me_ – not the other way round, mind you – on the parade day itself, when you also knew _nothing_ about her. I don't see why her being a mutant should change that."

"People who are different are a threat to the Capitol," the elder gentleman intoned disapprovingly. "And mutants are different, thus they should not be supported nor associated with. There is nothing more to be said." The minister waved at the door. "See yourself out, Mr. Rider."

Glaring at the Capitol official, Eugene rose reluctantly from his seat. The Minister had already dismissed him from his own attentions, returning to scrutinizing paper work instead. The young victor made his way to the door, but just as he reached out for the knob, he paused.

Spinning back on his heel, Eugene marched back to the desk, earning an astounded expression from the Capitol official. "Tell me, sir," he said, staring straight into Minister Corona's eyes. "What was it like to be the _different_?"

The man kept a straight face. "I have no idea what you mean."

Eugene snorted, shaking his head. "Well, I'll admit, you are right to dislike me. I am _indeed_ a rogue. For the last two days or so, I've been trying to dig up dirt on you. Blackmail, you know," he explained without a hint of shame. The Minister's face hardened, but he made no move to call security – _yet. _"No matter what I did, however, it kept drawing a blank. You have quite an impeccable record, sir. Quite extraordinary, and _different,_ for a politician of your calibre."

"I happen to be a man of principle, unlike _some._" The emphasis was heavy with disgust.

"Being the sole uncorrupted member of the cabinet couldn't have been an easy feat," continued Eugene pensively, as if the elder man hadn't spoke, "which led me to change my approach entirely. So I asked myself," -from his vest, he took out the 'secret weapon' and placed right before the minister - "what could it be that scared the Minister Corona into becoming the perfect law-abiding citizen that he is today?"

It was the file labelled '0144.5783COR'.

The self-control the elder gentlemen had dissipated like morning mist, as outrage contorted his face. "You stole this!"

"No…" contradicted the accused mildly. "I helped someone steal it, or maybe someone helped me to steal it. Doesn't matter."

"You have no right!" The Minister spat furiously. One arm was going under the button near the drawer – now he was _really_ going to call security.

This could seriously be the end up all things, so the words that rushed from Eugene's mouth were precise and hasty. "How old was she when taken?"

The Minister stopped, transfixed by the determined young man. Slowly, he returned his arm to the desk, his hand going to instead the sun medallion that hung across his shoulders. "A day old, no more."

His eyes went distant, and suddenly he turned from a stubborn old man to a haggard and sorrowful one. "She was born with the greenest green eyes, and head-full hair – gave her mother terrible labor pains because of that, they say."

Eugene nodded, feeling slightly ashamed for having pushed the man this far. But his task was not done. "A head-full of blonde hair?"

The man glanced up to meet his eyes, but for only a moment. "As pure as gold."

"I've guessed as much." The younger slid back into the chair opposite the grieving man, again without asking permission, though the latter was too absorbed to notice this.

"It was my fault that this happened," the Minister went on morosely, massaging his temple. "As a young politician, I spoke out once – said that the quotas demanded from the harvesters of District 9 was impossible. My … _compassion_," – such a lovely word sounded so harsh on his tongue – "was viewed as defiance. They didn't touch me. They said I was too promising a politician then. However, they said if I were to ever repeat such a deed, they'd take my wife next."

He raised his head to look at the younger man again, then at the file which held in stats and figures of his life, but not the years of suffering and guilt that went with it. "I'm truly regretful to have withdrawn my pledge, but now you understand why I cannot take the risk of backing a mutant. Press me no further, I beg." His voice seemed to crack, weary and worn. "I cannot risk losing both women that I love. I will not even press charges, I swear."

The plea in his words threatened to move Eugene to tears, but the younger man could not allow himself to relent. It would be cruel now, to deliver false hopes to broken man, but Eugene was many things, and one was selfish.

"Sir," he said quietly, "not all is lost."

The Minister looked at him. There was confusion, but there was a yearning - a yearning to hope, to believe in something again.

Eugene elaborated, his face kept serious and still, "I think Rapunzel's your daughter."

The Minister dismissed this at once. "Impossible."

"She shares familiar features to your daughter." The younger man was undeterred. "She's the right age. She was abandoned at the orphanage doorstep a week after your daughter vanished. She has no known relatives. And she has a remarkable fondness for _suns_."

"Those could be coincidence. And why would the Capitol spare my daughter only to put her in the districts?"

Eugene shrugged. "I don't pretend to know the workings of the Capitol, but I do know this." He removed the second 'secret weapon' from his vest, but this one he handled with a good deal more tenderness when he spread it before the Minister. It was Rapunzel's farewell gift to him, with the artist's signature scribbled at the bottom.

The elder man examined the watercolored sun. Then he shook his head. "She could have painted this after seeing my family emblem on television."

"That's what I thought at first," Eugene said, as he rolled the painting cautiously before sliding it back in his vest. "Till I compared it to the million suns she drew in the cabin, on the train from District 8 to Capitol. And Rapunzel hardly watched television. She didn't even know who I was," the last was added as a chagrinned mutter.

The Minister didn't answer, but he didn't object as readily as he did previously, so the ex-criminal took it as a good sign. The latter got up to his seat, telling the one across him, "I have no sure proof, that I can confess. But"-he pushed the file closer to the man-"the question really is, Minister Corona sir, how much do you want your daughter back?"

He headed to the door. As he opened it, he added, "I expect you would want to discuss this with your wife."

Giving a two-fingered salute, he was about to step out, when the Minister asked, "Why?"

Eugene halted at his tracks, giving him a questioning look.

"Why go through such lengths?" Minister Corona inquired, quite fazed. "What's in it for you, Rider?"

The young man didn't reply at once, and when he did, it was barely a whisper.

"She's my new dream."

He was a selfish man, but not always for himself.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

She couldn't remember getting into this spot.

"-get it. Why didn't she stop?"

"_Hoohoohoo_, does it matter? She stopped, and when you stop, you're dead. _Heeheehee._ Don't too think deep into it, my good lug-headed friend."

Really. Like, _at all. _

She remembered arriving early back to the Autumn Quarter. Tricking the Careers had been fun and everything, but sprinting forward to keep ahead was hard. Don't get her wrong – she loved speed, but little girls with short legs got tired at some point, so hitting home base had been wonderful. She had settled herself comfortably in the cave and had taken a little nap, ready to crow her victory over her redheaded ally when she had returned. And work-free dinner! Who didn't love that?

But then evening had come and then Vanellope had started to worry – not that she'd ever admit so. She had seen the big blast from the Spring Quarter – who could miss the roar of the earth cracking? But that had been some time in the late afternoon and Frizzle-frumps had been really, really super-duper late. The little girl had started entertaining terrifying thoughts; _what if Floss-brains ran into some vicious mutt in the way back? Or worst, the Careers? _

Sometime after the death recap played against the coal black sky – it had drawn a blank, thankfully – she had set off her journey to find her missing companion. She had been very careful, watching for any signs of the Demon Bear or other tributes, but for all her caution, something had gone wrong. Just that…she couldn't remember what it was.

She now scoured the insides of her brain, rummaging through her memories for the missing blank. She wanted to slap her head, see if she could jog any results out.

Except that she couldn't. She couldn't hit her own head, because she couldn't move her arms. In a matter of fact, she couldn't move her arms _and _her legs, because all of them have been, for inexplicable reasons, tied up. Several cuss words came to mind at that point, but for some reason when she spoke, all she heard were '_Mmmphf! Mphf!_', and that was the time were she realized that she had also been gagged. _Well, wasn't this just cake-and-tea?_

"Should we kill her now?"

There was that creepy sniggering again. "Ooh, tempting, tempting, but we need her – _heeheehee - _for now. Her little red-curled friend will be looking for her. _Hahahaha._"

A chill ran up Vanellope's spine and the hairs at the back her neck bristled. Even though her head had been angled such that she couldn't see her captor, that voice alone rang dozens of bells. _Sweet mother of monkey milk. _It was King Cuckoo and his muscle-brained minion.

She wriggled in the bonds to no avail_. How did this actually happen at all?_

"I still don't get it."

There was a dramatic sigh, which in turn was interrupted by an unsettling giggle. "My good Stabbing-boy, we want to nail the girl with the 11-score, not the annoyingly little brat."

Then Vanellope suddenly recalled bumping into said duo in the darkness – a stupid mistake due to the dimness and her sleepiness. She had believed their forms to be her curly-headed friend and called out, foolishly giving away her location and her ally's identity. There had been a chase, and she had actually did pretty well, using the shadows to make the bone-headed muscle man snag his boss instead of her.

She couldn't help chuckling a little. It had been pretty funny, to watch the infuriated little pale man yelling at his bulky ally, and she had laughed and loud and then…she suddenly found herself in ropes.

Then, she frowned. That didn't make sense. She had been winning right? How did tables turn so fast, and without her noticing?

Wait, _without her noticing…_

Her heart sank. It happened. She managed to keep a clean record for the entire day, as far as she could tell, at least, but in the end, she still snapped. Frizzles was never going to let her live this down.

_Holy flippin' macaroons! The low-life scum wanted Frizzles! _Her round brown-eyes hardened, and she fought against the scratchy ropes again. She couldn't let them get Frizzles. _No way. Never way. _

"_Heehee. _Don't bother, Eleven." She heard the high-pitched voice invade her thoughts. The moonlight was obscured by the blood-black leaves hanging above, but Vanellope could imagine the cruel sneer on the nasty boy's lips. "You and your archer friend will decorate the death recap, wait and see! _Haha-huhu-haha-_ oh wait, you won't be able to see it." There was a wild cackle, then a pause. "Because you'll be dead, you know. _Heha-hahahahahaha_."

Though she resisted it with all her might, Vanellope found her succumbing to the wave of despair. She shook her head. Frizzles will come. Frizzles will stop the hooligans. Frizzles will save her.

But what if something really had happened to Frizzles in the Spring Quarter? And even if she did come, what if she fell for every diabolical scheme that the Master Creepo came up with it?

She felt the minion pick her up and toss his shoulder. Her protest came out as muffled shrieks, and she swung herself around violently.

"Stop that!" The huge boy ordered, but she paid no heed, even flipping her heels back till her shoe soles kicked the redheaded boy in the face. The District 7 boy gave a growl of pain, dropping her to leafy ground. She tried to laugh at him, but all that came out was muted 'hmm-hmms'.

The insulted boy made a snarl of anger, raising his fist to strike her, but the District 6 boy stopped him. "Not yet, you fool. I need her jaw working."

The large boy muttered something harsh under his breath, only to be talked down by the other boy again. King Loony then approached her, bending down and looking into her eyes, chuckling softly – no, _menacingly. _

"Do what you want, Eleven, but the bottom line's this; we _won_, you and miss-top-notch _lost_. It's end of the line, _glitch._"

The word must have struck her harder than she thought, because she offered no struggle the next time the bigger boy slung her across his shoulder.

The last thing that stuck in her mind was the blueish crescent moon, shining peacefully overhead. Then, she slipped back through the cracks of time once more.

* * *

**S/N: Giving credit when credit is due – the style and the words for the booby trap segment is heavily inspired by the original books description of that part. And Hans is alive!**

**Does it make sense that I enjoyed writing Eugene's bit more than Merida's? And Merida's was meant to be the highlight. Guess which movie the Capitol attendant is from – it's really obvious. If it wasn't clear, the file that he stole two chapters ago was meant for blackmail. Yep. The painting he showed the Minister is the one Rapunzel gave to him before Bloodbath day. **

**Up Next: I think you guys can already guess…. But the odds were never in their favor in the first place…**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Most of you said that you like long chapters, so my chapter lengths are unlikely to shrink by much (each chappie's gonna be like 5000+. Can you believe my first couple of chapters was all about 3000 words? **

**All the same, I've estimated that this story is gonna take me 42 Chapters – so I have 11 more to go. I'm really trying to finish this before the end of June, but if for some reason it goes beyond June, I can't lie that I may end up going on a 6 month hiatus to prep for my exams. My life kind'a hangs on this exam, so forgive me if I prioritize.**

**Mailbox: **

**Obsidian Buterfly: Rapunzel is considered a mutant (1st referred to as such in Chap 17) which is why she lost her sponsors initially - that which is further explained in this chapter. Note that there's a different between muttations and mutants - muttations/mutts are from THG books and they're genetically modified animals (i.e. Toothless) while mutants are humans with superhuman powers (i.e. Elsa, Rapunzel) (sorry for explaining this if you actually understood it, haha). I wouldn't however throw out magic from this story altogether, sci-fi or not.**

**Your thoughts on Jack are really interesting, but I can't promise all the explanations or events will happen in this story (but maybe the sequel yah...). Jack's role will definitely be inspired by THG and ...another book. Toothless will be back, duh. When is subject to change. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Anon: Sorry...**

**waveringshadow: Glad you liked the Shen backstory, because I really had doubts about posting it (I was planning to do like a separate one-shot of it, or something, because his backstory are fairly complicated, as is Gothel's. ) I'm not a big KFP fan myself, but I do enjoy the films. Astrid's path is gonna have its own mystery, but I wouldn't trust the movies so much - half the inspiration for this story is from a miserable for reviewing!**

**ExtremeA: I'll try when I can, but life and school takes priority, so...**

**hiddeninthelibrary: I think I have to apologise to you, because your feelings are absolutely right. **

**WarriorQueen 14: **

**Villains do have interesting backstories, don't they? More often than not, they're better ones than that of heroes, because you have balance the bad deeds with some amount of sympathy. **

**About Mer and Van, they mostly Katniss and Rue...so yeah, oh no. Trust me...y'all have to hold your breath.**

**that one evil girl: Haha, true, true. **

**electricangel12: I'm so inform you that your gut feeling is...a gut feeling.**

**Awsomaniatica: Shen is by virtue a pretty dark fella, and actually him being a murderer as a kid here is supposed to be representative of how he committed genocide in KFP2. The other thing that Gothel loved most could either be really lame, or cool (I'm really hoping I'll write it properly so it'll end up being the latter), and it'll revealed in time with her backstory. Actually Van catching sight of Toothless would have been really cool. Never thought about that. **

**Nightingale82: One of the great things about working with Van is that, unlike her THG counterpart who just the average sweet smart kid, she's snarky, opinionated and frank. Rapunzel's hair is really powerful, but I wasn't sure about complete amputations, so I cheated in the story by saying that Toothless' tail got frayed instead of ripped off. I can't kill Shen off by making a tree fall on him anymore, because of his connection to Gothel, and because I need sufficient villains around to kill, so that the heroes don't become complete murderers. **

**Probably will update two fridays from now – school competitions will be occupying me. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	32. Chapter 30: On The Edge

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 30: On the Edge

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

The Autumn Quarter was a gorgeous residence. The red-yellow leaves that pattered down during each breeze were indeed a sight to behold, against the grand oaks that stood so stoutly. Elsa always had a good eye for naturalistic beauty, and her aesthetics senses found this pleasing. The variety of food here was much larger too; birds, squirrels, even edible leaves and roots they could find almost everywhere. It was fortunate that Jack had a good eye for hunting, and they were better fed here than they had been in the Winter Quarter.

Everything around her felt so cozy and rich that she felt grossly abnormal just being in it.

It was some hours to dawn, so in the pale moonlight she could barely admire the vibrant colors of her surroundings. Her belly was already full, having already shrunken considerably over the days in the Arena. So there was nothing to distract her from the fact that it was so warm in here. Not that the weather was really _that _warm– her shivering, slumbering ally was a clear indicator that it wasn't. In a matter of fact, autumn nights were cold. Just not cold enough for her.

She didn't like sleeping in the open like this, but they hadn't been able to find shelter in time, so they set up camp under the branches instead. Jack was fast asleep, curled up in a ball and hugging his knees. The fire from the fire pit had died out long ago, and even if it hadn't, they would have killed it simply to avoid the attention. Of course, now that he was back to his ragged black attire, it meant that he was having a huge difficulty in trapping heat. And she had no way helping him with that.

That didn't meant she didn't try. After scanning their surroundings over and over, she decided that maybe a little fire wouldn't hurt. It would warm the boy and maybe let him get some comfortable sleep for once. There had been too many circles under his eyes and his cheery deposition slipped every so often, though he had pretended he didn't know what she was talking about when she had probed him. He was a kind boy, a good boy, but apparently he was just as skilled as her in keeping his feelings locked up.

It had taken a lot of persuasion, but eventually she had convinced him to let her take the night watch tonight. He had been extremely reluctant to do so, but the minute he went horizontal, he stared dozing straight away. She had felt nice about herself, imagining that she had just done a good deed. Of course, any good deed in the Games was only temporary.

Besides, her 'good deed' wasn't going to be much of a good deed if Jack wasn't sleeping very well. The way he tossed and turned, stretching his tattered coat over his torso and muttering under his breath made that possibility even more likely.

She tried to start a fire – it was hilarious, but she had hoped in the drier weather would allow this to work for once. Over the firewood she had gathered, she wedged a stick in one wooden board and rubbed between her palms it the way Jack had showed her back in training days. But at each attempt, she only succeeded in summoning another pile of snow. Seething in carefully silent frustration, she took up the newly-frozen stoking stick and cast it away angrily.

It wasn't intentional, but her powers acted up without her permission again. When the stick left her hand, its flight was somehow further propelled by a mini-ice blast from her fingers. The frozen stick then slammed into a thick-trunked maple, smattering into glassy fragments. It didn't stop there. Upon contact with the frozen stick, the trunk started to grow a layer of frost, which expanded and swelled till the entire tree was engulfed in a crystalline case.

Elsa rose to her feet, scrambling towards it to examine her handiwork. At first, she felt a surge of pride – the white and blue from the snow were did mix well with original brown and red. But upon peering closely at it, she realized that the ice had not just been coated on the tree's exterior, but rather had been completely infused with the tree. A startling revelation came to her.

Yes, the tree was now more beautiful, but now, it was also _dead_.

Her hand reached over her mouth to hold back her gasp. There had been only little irritation - just the littlest - but she never had the intention to… she would never have the intention to….

But perhaps intention and action were never quite the same. She hadn't intended to kill the District 4 girl in the castle – at least, after Jack had spoken to her – but the girl died regardless. She hadn't intended to hurt Anna, but she had anyway. She hadn't intended to hide her curse at the cost of her parents' life, but she had anyway.

But maybe she could change that. Maybe she could take hold of her own power for a change.

She placed her palms on the tree trunk. Taking a breath, she attempted to say quietly, yet commandingly, "Melt."

The frost didn't budge.

She tried again, with a more demanding tone, "_Melt_."

Nothing changed. The tree stood still and cold. Pieces of frozen leaves began falling from above, so serenely that she had almost believed that they were snowflakes.

Elsa struggled with the thought. She always had issues hiding her powers, but now that she was using the, freely - and improving in her skills with it - shouldn't that mean that she should have learnt how to remove ice by now?

Or could it be that that was impossible?

She found herself drawn back through the days gone by, of the terrified nights in District 12 that she struggled to hold her powers in. Her parents had been confident that she would control her powers someday, and did their best support her. It had been her father who had taught her the mantra – '_Conceal. Don't feel'_. But all she learnt was how to hold back the ice, not to remove it.

Like holding it back when her home was razed to the ground, her parents imprisoned inside.

Unconsciously, her hands started glowing blue, and suddenly another spray of ice flew from her palms on to the tree. The new ice, however, felt darker. How it crept around the tree was like a virus, twisting around the frosted bark fiercely, choking out even the semblance of life. Spikes began to form about the trunk first, then into the branches, and then even to the leaves as icy thorns. The grand old oak had been transformed into something taken straight out of a horror novel.

Elsa withdrew her hands at once, her eyes going wide at the macabre structure before her, then her eyes going to her hands. If one hadn't watched it in her perform it, the towering mass of malicious-looking ice pillar beside her would have never peen guessed to have once between a flourishing oak.

She was ice, and ice was cold. And cold could only bring death and ruin.

_No! _She shook her head. She would learn to control it. She has so far, well, maybe besides the Bloodbath period, and maybe battle on the ice castle, but she had been getting better. But in the winter quarter, it was easier, since everything was already frozen. She couldn't kill anything that was already dead.

She turned herself away from that whichused to be a tree, pretending that nothing happened. She tried to sink herself in pleasanter thoughts when she returned to the campsite.

Well, for starters, her powers were pretty fantastic - Jack certainly thought so. There were so many wonderful things she could make with it, like her beautiful ice castle. She cupped her hands together, trying to remember how she free and glad she had felt in short-lived moment while building it. At once, a small snowflake manifested itself between her palms, gleaming brilliant blue inter darkness. Focusing intently on it, she willed the snowflake to harden, become a crystalline hexagon instead. Watching the glowing glass-like token dancing in the darkness, she smiled. It felt like purest thing she had made since the Games had begun. Her powers could bring _beauty._

A cry in the night startled her, causing her to hastily grab the floating crystal, burying its light in her palm. Glancing around, she was surprised to find it coming from the boy. She crawled towards him, hardly noticing the trial of ice she left in her urgency. He was still asleep still, but he was in discomfort. What she had assumed to merely shivering had become violent twitching, with his hands folding more tightly around his chest. Beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead down to his brown tufts, and every so often, a pained exhale would escape his lips. Just by holding a hand over him, she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Her eyes felt on the ice-coated wound on his shoulder, a grim expression on her face. It seemed despite her best efforts, infection still won.

A sudden shudder struck the slumbering Jack, and the incoherent mutters became more intense and convoluted. Involuntarily, she reached her free hand to his burning forehead, hoping to sooth the heat away with a cool touch. However, when her fingers were barely an inch away, she pulled away. With her powers still fluctuating, she didn't know if she could touch him without freezing him.

The way she froze that tree.

Then what could she do? The first-aid that she learned in training days came to her, but unless she could produce an icy equivalent of an anti-bacterial cream, there was nothing more that she could do. Her heart wrenched went she heard a whimper from him. She felt a terrible urge to take his hand in hers and stroke it, to lend _some_ kind of comfort. But to Jack's burning body, the entire world seemed far too cold. She would only add frostbite on top of his other problems.

She was ice, and ice was cold.

Carefully, she edged away from him, feeling an odd surge of anger towards herself. She could bring beauty and destruction at a flick of her hand, but she couldn't bring help to this sweet, suffering boy.

She stared at the crystal snowflake in her palm. Clenching her fist, she threw her arm back, then swung it forward as she released her glowing creation far, far away into the woods, till the blue light could no longer be seen.

Did it matter? Did it matter if her powers could bring beauty or death? Did it matter if she tried to control it? This was the Hunger Games; there was neither time or the capacity for such thoughts. Hers should have only one goal: to win, and to go home to Anna.

If Anna wanted her home at all, that is. Compared to her perfect _normal _boyfriend, a cyrokinetic freak was a poor choice.

She sat down cross legged by the fire pit, not daring to lean again the oak behind her lest she turn it into an icicle too. Trails of ice were seeping from the soles of her feet, and they spread a little faster from each agonized sound from her distressed ally. She could only hope that his mentor would send some special Capitol medicine that could save him, and that daylight would come soon to spare him some warmth. Because there was really nothing she could do, but cover her ears. Shut out her feeling and reduce the frost around him.

Just _don't feel. _Be hard, like ice.

She was ice, and ice was cold.

* * *

Merida was cold, wet and tired. And aching everywhere – that was fairly important. She didn't know if there was a part of her that wasn't either cut or bruised, or both, because if there were, well, they were presently being drowned out in all other pain.

By the time she finished crossing the snow-drifted Cornucopia, scarlet lines were decorating the horizon, warning the coming of a new day. It had been a harrowing night – evening, morning, whatever. After destroying the supply pile, she had gone unconscious for close to two hours. When she had finally come to again, it had because she heard the screams of the returned Careers. They hadn't spotted her, since she had been still hidden in the safety of her little copse.

The reactions had been quite varied. The white-haired District 1 boy had been pacing up and down, cursing in low tones. The pretty District 1 girl had been rummaging through the ruin, spluttering irately when she found nothing that could be saved. The scarred guy from District 4 went absolutely berserk, kicking blackened debris around, almost frothing in the mouth as he brought his sword down the burnt goods – very stupid, since it was possible that some were in good use.

The response of the blonde District 2 girl had felt the most out of place. Merida had expected her to be shrieking profanities at the top of her lungs and join the District 4 boy in his parade of insanity. But she had still stood stark still, horrified and almost fearful. She had looked as if she was going to flee. With good reason, Merida had discovered, because no sooner had the other Careers paused from their outcries of despair than they had turned on her. Weapons had been brandished and challenges issued. The District 2 Career had put up a brave front, but there was some anxiety in her blue eyes. The redheaded girl had felt a twinge of sympathy for the axe-wielder, but she had hardened her heart quickly. If the Pack decided to finishing little murderess, then good riddance.

Merida had decided to take her leave after that, hoping to escape before the Careers decided to search the immediate area. Her legs had, and still, felt as if they had been put through one of those mincing machines that butchers used, and her both of her arms felt as if they had been broken twice over. With a remarkable amount of resilience, she had managed to push herself through the forestry. Her spinning brain, however, had decided to rebel against her, dragging her off to weird places she had never seen before, and she had to grudgingly backtrack till something familiar came in sight.

Sometimes her travels had been interrupted when she had to hide from the passing Careers, or when she had gotten thirsty. She had been hungry; the bundle of leaves that she had brought with her had been inadequate in filling the unending pit of her stomach, and the tempting venomous foods around hadn't helped at all. In her dizzy state, she had almost made the mistake of eating the berries of the daphne bush on her way out. Throughout the night, she had walked, resting only once when she had fallen asleep on her feet. That had been very short, since she had been rudely awaken when she had found her cheek smashed against the earth.

It had been a very dull and exhausting journey all together, so it was good back at Autumn again. She yanked off the blackberries from a bush on the way, stuffing it in her mouth. It wasn't filling, but anything that didn't taste of ash or bark was kingly now. In familiar surroundings, traveling was easier. She had stopped once or twice to drink, then hurrying forward.

The little lass was probably worrying her disproportionately large head off. Merida groaned when she recalled the bet she had made with the girl. That meant _she_ had to prepare dinner, or perhaps now _breakfast_, since it was now day time, due to her tardy return. Merida dragged a palm down her face, sighing.

She found the little cave rather soon, but all was quiet. A dead fire – probably lit and extinguished in the night, she guessed from how cool the wood was – and an overturned bowl was all that greeted her. The lass was nowhere in sight, though signs of presence was everywhere. That meant at least that she had left the Summer Quarter scot-free, and that she was still in this quarter.

Though worn to the bone, Merida got to tracking immediately. A thin trail of steps from the camp suggested the girl had left on her own accord, but the indentations on the dirt also pointed to that the steps were likely to have been hurried. Following the clues deeper and deeper into the forest, Merida hit a dead end when the ground just spelled chaos.

Chaos…

Her senses suddenly jumped a notch.

The prints were really unclear, but the way the leaves were strewn about indicated a scuffle. Merida's breaths became sharper as she struggled to piece together the events. Further trails of broken sticks and shredded leaves pointed to a chase, and then… the chase stopped. Merida couldn't infer much from the scattered leaves, except…there seemed to be missing feet in the equation. Little feet.

Then, there was blood-curdling roar echoing in the forest, and a scream. A _child's_ scream. And as far as Merida knew, only one person in the entire Arena was young enough to make such a sound.

Exhaustion slipped off her like an unwanted coat and now she donned anxiety instead. She broke into run, heading straight in the direction of the scream.

"Vanellope!" The cry torn from her throat was so strained that hardly sounded like her own. Her bow was swung forward, her arrow poised and ready to slay.

"Friz-zles!" The girl's voice became louder, but increasingly strained.

The red and yellow surrounding her smeared into a blur in her vision. She barely felt the leaves crushed under her feet, or her curls whipping back behind her. She called out to younger girl again, to give reassurance and hopefully catch the attention of whatever, or whoever, had the District 11 girl. Each heartbeat was like a sear in her chest, and each second was like an eternity.

She was speeding so quickly that she hardly registered that the forest had disappeared and herself tittering on the edge of a cliff. Stumbling backward, panting, acrophobia hit her like a bullet train when she took one look at the deep plunge that could have been hers. Glancing up, she saw that all that lay beyond the cliff was a vast expanse of water. It seemed that this was the end of Autumn Quarter.

A growl to the right distracted her from her new discovery. Some distance away, she found the little girl seated on the edge of a cliff. She seemed to be bound in ropes by the hands and legs, with something blue and glowing between in her fingers. Hardly five feet away, a familiar black-furred beast prowled around her, greedily eyeing the azure prize.

Part of her suspected a trap, but another part didn't care. All Merida knew was that she had to get that blasted bear away before Vanellope fell off the cliff, or turned into a beary snack.

"Demon-bear!" she shouted, running forward to close the gap between them. When she was in range enough, she launched the projectile at the beast. The arrow bounced off the black coat, but it did the trick, because the beast turned to look at her, away from the squirming little girl. Its single yellow eye was fixed on her, and its fur bristled menacing.

"Remember me?" If Merida was scared, her manner didn't show it. She held her bow up proudly, and hoped the bear could remember who plunged two arrows into his deadened eye.

The beast grunted sourly, its ugly face contorting into an even more grotesque picture. It removed himself from Vanellope, slowly inching its way down the cliff, towards the redhead instead. The little girl let out a gasp of relief, but her body was still tensed.

"Good." Merida lowered the bow, trying to keep her voice level to avoid alarming the beast. Her eyes not leaving it, she spoke to Vanellope, "Lass, are you okay?"

The frightened girl on the cliff gave a quick nod, daring not to say a word. The bear was prowling towards the District 5 girl, emitting threatening snarls.

"Can you move?" Merida asked, slowly drawing two arrow from her quiver, taking a step back for each one that the beast took forward.

Vanellope stared down at her short legs, shifting them apart. It appeared that, though tangled in ropes, her legs were actually free.

The bear was approaching Merida warily, which was wise since she had caused him much distress before. It seemed the Demon Bear was the type to hold a grudge.

She kept her eyes glued on it, giving it no chance for sudden moves and to draw its attention away from the weapon she wielded. "On three," she told the girl with an unshaking voice, just as she fitted the first arrow, the other remaining curled in her fourth finger. "One."

Vanellope was scared, it was in her eyes, but she planted her soles to the ground, nodding.

"Two." Merida drew back the bowstring, but kept her arms low. The creature was sputtering and snarling at her. It was mad. Aye, that's good, as long as that threw it throw her off.

The younger lass now pushed herself forward cautiously till her entire weight rested in the balls of her feet. Her breaths were rapid, but soft, while she attempted to surreptitiously discard the ropes around her ankles with her still-bond hands.

"_Three!"_

Vanellope jumped to her feet, clutching her bound arms to her chest as she zoomed past the bear, dashing along the cliff's edge. It noticed this move, however, and begun spinning itself around to pursue the fleeing child. Before it could fully turn, however, Merida raised her bow, letting the arrow flying towards the black beast, heading straight for the deaden eye. The beast noticed this too, and jerked its head out of the way in time, howling at the archer threatening.

Fortunately, she was prepared for this. Notching the second arrow, she fired without hesitation, or even pausing to aim. As expected, the arrow met its mark. The metal tip pierced right into the remaining yellow eyeball, sinking straight into the black of its only moving pupil.

The creature screamed in mad agony, red liquid pouring from the fresh puncture. Even in its new blindness, it pounced in her direction, its claws outstretched to maim. Only a speedy roll and run out of the way allowed her to run. The beast howled in frustration with its new disability, tearing unhappily at the empty trees. The redheaded girl skipped neatly out of it way each time, before she finally managed to dart pass the creature altogether. She found the younger girl still standing at the edge of the forest, the glowing blue object she had spotted earlier in the girl's palm, and she was using itto saw the binds on her wrist.

"Lass, go!" Only after the words tumbled from her mouth did she really what stupid mistake it was. The bear was blind, _not_ deaf. The creature whipped itself about, charging instead in the direction of the voice. Stupid rookie mistake.

It was no longer a command as a statement of necessity. "RUN!"

Both girls were zipping fast and forward side by side while the creature came down in hot pursuit. The ground along the edge of the cliff was crumbly and sandy, not like the terrain in the forest. Add that to the furious stomping of the creature, keeping a good foothold alone was difficult, much more so running.

"We need to get back to the forest," Vanellope, shooting a glance behind her shoulder. Even on the run for their lives, she was still trying to slice the ropes around her wrists with the strange blue crystal. Merida made a mental note to ask where she got it from when they got out – _if_ they got out.

The bear sent out a roar as fearsome as thunder, its paws beating against the stone and dirt like a storm. Merida did some quick calculations. They had the advantage of sight now, but the beast was still had its hearing and its smell, which it undoubtedly use well in hunting them down. It was also faster and stronger than both of them combined, not to mention that it had a huge incentive to rip them into shreds. Somehow, Merida felt that this wasn't go down as easily as the events at the castle– the Gamemakers seemed to upped the level, and it had been ages since anyone died.

Then an idea struck her. "Follow me."

The redhead led them both another cliff end, this one being far more pointed and narrow the other that Vanellope had been stranded on. It was also steeper, and the ground was even more crumbly.

"Oh, catatonic cupcakes! What kinda escape plan is this, you carrot-head?" Even under supreme duress, the little girl couldn't fail to be insulting.

"I saved you, excuse me!" retorted Merida hotly, when she dragged the girl up the cliff, pulling them through the shrubbery and overgrowth.

"Oh, out of the frying pan _only_!"

Behind them, the bear battered uphill through the same bushes like a bulldozer. Its furred face was one of vile lunacy, and the blood streaking down from the pierced sockets only made it more retch-worthy.

Nearing the tip of cliff, there was only the grass beneath their feet, the sky above their heads, a straight road leading the bear right to them and a straight plunge that awaited off the ledge.

"Now what?" gasped Vanellope. She was still struggling with her bindings. Catching her breath first, her ally looped her bow over her shoulder, removed an arrow from her quiver, using the sharp end cut the rope, but only once, such that the rest of the rope was still intact. She measured the cord against her own arm, then bit her lip. Well, it would have to do.

"Take this." She smashed one end of the rope in younger girl's swollen red hand. "Here's what we're gonna do: we're going infuriate the bear, make it ignore its sense of smell." She then planted Vanellope on one side of the edge, then herself on the other. "Then, we get it to run between us, and off the cliff." Scanning their surroundings for a bit, she gestured to the younger girl move forward a little, which did she did gratefully. Each end of the rope was held in one girl's palm, while the length of it was lying on the ground.

"Then what's this for?" Vanellope tapped on the twine meaningfully, while rubbing her crinkled wrists.

The answer was a grave one. "In case one of us goes over."

She noted that the girl standing across her took a gulp, but put up a brave face all the same.

The blinded beast was nearing the clearing before woods, its snout held up as it sniffed about, uttering a low growl as it did.

"Okay. Scream," Merida instructed her ally.

"Scream what?"

"I don't know. Insults? Profanities? That weird thing about 'monkey milk'?"

"It's 'sweet mother of monkey milk', genius!"

"Do that, just a million time louder. Like this." Merida sucked in a hasty breath, then bellowed out to the beast, "C'mere, ye yellow-mouth mongrel!"

It reacted at once, flinging itself in the direction of the cliff, away from the forest.

"That's right!" The redheaded yelled. "Come get me, mangly hound!"

"You call _that_ screaming?" Vanellope cocked a brow at her. She spun towards the panting beast, then released an unholy screech, "HEY, YOU DISGUSTING SPECIMEN OF A MAMMAL! YOU DISFIGURED, DEMENTED MEATBAG! YOUR FATHER'S A PIPETTE, YOUR MOTHER'S A PETRI DISH, AND ALL OF THIS PALES IN COMPARISON TO THE FACT THAT YOU ARE SO _GROSS_ AND _UGLY_ YOU COULD MAKE A TOAD VOMIT!"

Merida had no idea what the girl had said, even less what it meant, but it seemed to have done the trick, because the bear now charged towards them with renewed fury and abandoned caution. It released a deep growl as it sprung forward, teeth and claws all bared.

"Now!"

Both girls shifted themselves as far from the bear as they could, allow it to hurl right pass them. Sure enough, in its incensed irrationality, the beast hadn't stopped in consider their voices or scents, and with a howl mixed with anger and anguish, the Demon Bear hurtled itself off the cliff. There were furious bites and scraping sounds along the cliff walls as the beast plummeted, before it all ended with a resounding splash. The mutt was gone for once and for all.

Merida wiped the perspiration trickling down her brow, about to sign in relief, when she suddenly felt the rope go taunt in her hand. There was a yelp, and she found herself being dragged across the cliff grounds, till her elbows were sitting on its edge. Gazing over it, she was found Vanellope dangling over hundreds of feet above the ocean below.

The small girl was clutching onto the rope for dear life, with good reason, taking a fearful swallow. "Sweet mother…"

"Don't let go, Lass!" Merida could barely breathe, but somehow the words got shoved out her mouth anyway. She twisted the ropes more tightly around her fingers, digging her toes and knees into the ground. "Don't you _dare_ let go."

Vanellope was terrified – her quivering body was evidence enough – but the elder girl could see she was trying to contain it. "Okay. Okay. Don't get your frizzles" -her hand slipped a little, but she managed to tighten her hold in time – "in a knot."

"I'm going to pull you up, alright? Just hold on." Heaving on the rope, Merida was glad that the girl was so little after all, otherwise she might have never had the strength to do this. She kept twirling the rope around her arms, bringing the girl slowly but steadily. When the girl's arm was within grasp, Merida grabbed it, then hauled her back up to safer ground. Both of them collapsed on the grass, taking in heavy inhales, saying nothing while they missed the incredible events that happened that day.

When they had both rested sufficiently, Merida was the first spring the question by tossing the rope at Vanellope. Jabbing her in the shoulder, she demanded, "_What. Happened. To. You?_"

The little girl gave a nervous chuckle.

Narrations were exchanged, and apologizes were passed around. Vanellope had described the events of the night before, and confessed shamefully that she had glitched out. That resulted in her capture by Turbo and his brawny sidekick. They had planned to use her to capture her ally, though how, the little girl had no clue. While being carried off by them, she had found the strange blue crystal - with a sharp end - hanging from a tree, and had taken it in an attempt to cut up of her bonds, though she had only managed to use it to cut the ropes around her feet. However, the blue crystal glowed, and that glow had been what attracted the attentions of the Demon Bear.

When the beast had attacked them, Turbo had been the first to flee, leaving Stabbington very much infuriated, though he too had managed to escape later. Hence, the beast had gone after her, unsurprisingly, and if she hadn't cut most of the bonds on her lost limbs, she would have died long ago.

"-so, thanks for saving me. Twice. You didn't need to, though."

A wry grin tugged at the corner of Merida's mouth. "And here I thought you'd finally admit that you would have died if I didn't come along."

"I would have. That's- that's why you didn't need to." Vanellope looked away, huddling to herself into a small ball.

Merida knew what she was talking about, of course. There could only be one victor in the Games. Yet, she noted that not once had she hesitated in rescuing Vanellope. She couldn't let go, no matter what the Games demanded. Her eyes fell onto the precious words carved on the back of her bows.

"Well," she nudged the little girl lightly in the ribs, the searing sensation in her arm reminding her now of her previous injuries, "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

Vanellope gave a small smile, then held her fist up to the elder girl. Merida made a soundless laugh, raising her own fist to close the gap.

"C'mon. We best stop lazing and get a moving," she said, as she pushed her aching body of the ground. The little girl was quick to follow her moves. "With the maniac and sideburns still out there, who know what-"

All that warned her was a cracking of shrubbery under foot. Out from the forest, there was a loud '_shink!_', then a sword came flying their way. Without thinking, Merida shoved Vanellope back to the ground, herself stepping out of the way, and the blade glide over the little girl's head, disappearing into the crimsom-violet sky.

Merida vaguely called hearing some weird crackling sound behind her, but this was drowned out by the war cry from the muscular District 7 boy. He bore a grotesque sneer from forehead to chin, fresh scratches decorating his bare arms daring to indicate some fight he had gone through earlier. In his hands, he wielded a mace, and he was zooming towards them both.

Vanellope made a shriek, but the redheaded girl didn't say a word. Not even blinking, Merida reloaded her bow, and fired an arrow. It sunk into Stabbington's throat, causing him to reel backward, his body and his mace crashing to the ground at the same time. He writhed in the soil, one of his strong arms yanking the arrow out, halving his own time while he choked on his own blood. Several seconds later, a cannon shot sounded against the sky.

Merida did a double take. She finally did it. Her first kill.

"Frizzles?" The younger girl had hopped to her feet, and was now tugging on her arm. She seemed shaken too, but more out of concern, than disgust.

The redhead forced herself to take slow breaths. Somehow the news hadn't quite sunken in._ She killed. She finally killed. _She expected herself to feel revulsion, or maybe a little guilt, but she felt nothing. It was just ...hollow.

The sight of the mace in the boy's limp hand snapped her back to her sensibilities. Drawing back an arrow on the bow again, she pointed it at the forest. "Turbo! Get out here, you infernal bastard! I know you're in there." She clutched the bow tighter, shifting her aim side to side. "Get out, and maybe I'll make your death fast!"

There was no answer, as expected, but it didn't stop Merida from swinging her bow about angrily, gritting her teeth.

"I don't think he's here."

She gave the black-haired girl a look of surprise.

Vanellope elaborated, "Turbo really liked his mace." She gestured at the sprawled form of the District 7. "I don't meathead could have taken it off him easy."

Merida scrutinized the corpse, trying to subdue any uneasiness at the sight of her victim. The cuts that Stabbington had on his person could probably indicate that his alliance with the little psychopath had gone to pieces only a few moments before his demise.

"We should track Turbo down. Take him out," she finally said, lowering the bow, though the stiffness of her form indicated that she was still on high alert. She removed her eyes from the still form of the dead boy.

Vanellope didn't seem to like that suggestion, but she didn't object. Rather, she seemed distracted by gazing at the horizon beyond the cliff. The sun was climbing into the sky gradually, chasing the shadows away.

Merida however didn't even bother to check the view. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she told the younger girl, "Take a breather for minute, then we'll go."

Vanellope didn't answer, still turned towards the sunrise, the brightness causing her shield her eyes. Not once did she turn away.

"Lass-" Merida began, but Vanellope cut her off with the wave of her hand, concentrating solely the sky. The elder girl tried to see what she was looking at, but staring into the core of the sun just made spots in her eyes, so she turned her eyes away hastily instead.

She started again, "Lass, what are-"

Merida never got to finish her sentence, because at that moment she found herself slammed unceremoniously to the ground. She sat up, prepared to give the younger girl a ragging for such rough treatment. However, her lips stopped forming the words when she heard a familiar '_shink!' _ring in the air. And suddenly she understood what Vanellope had seen.

Pieces of events fell together: both of them standing on the edge – _the end -_ of the Autumn Quarter; the sword disappearing off the cliff, without a splash but with a crackle …_of electricity_; the first night that they had met on the Game Centre rooftop, when Vanellope had tossed a stone off the parapet.

By the time the revelation struck Merida, it was too late. She only had time to scream when the flying metal blade entered the little girl's body.

* * *

**S/N:**

**I am a despicable human being. **

**If you don't understand what just happened in the last few sentences, I suggest you read chapter 5, where Van and Merida first met. If you still don't get it, hopefully the next chapter would clarify.**

**If it wasn't clear enough, the blue crystal that Van found hanging off the tree is the same that Elsa created in the first bit.**

**Oh, by the way, anyone who suggests that Jack might get turned into a werewolf may get inexplicably defenestrated. **

**Up Next: I haven't actually written it, but here's one sentence that I'll definite write in. **

"_**-The sun and the moon, they'll guide you there,-"**_

* * *

**A/N: **

**I'm in competition season now, so I'll just answer the reviews quickly.**

**Oh, sorry for the typos. I just realized a lot of my review answers have huge typos – especially since I don't scrutinize them as intently as I do for the story (which still results in lots of typos anyways). So really sorry guys.**

**Mailbox:**

**waveringshadow: Eugene ftw! I thoughts Hans would be a cooler Foxface than a Peeta, because he's smart and cunning, and all that jazz. Oh, and for the dying? You got your wish.**

**Sevenise: Sorryabout the lack of team J.E. Stuff. I promise after this story arc, we'll see more of the ice team again, and don't worry, I have some nice story archs for them.**

**that one evil girl: I went back to read my own message, then yours, then I realized I had no idea what on earth we were talking about, and was too lazy to find out. Ah, well. Happy reading. **

**Riverfall: Nice to hear from you again, and glad you do enjoy this story. Would you believe that Eugene's face-off with Minister Corona was one of the semi-big events I planned before even writing this story? Gothel's backstory shall one of juicy little stories I'll tell. As for Hans, haha…**

**WarriorQueen 14: Initially, I was going to follow the book for Merida &amp; Van's bit, but then I felt that I needed to tie up some loose ends, like the Mordu, and *****cough* forcefield *cough*. Hans shall truly a mystery: am I really going to make him a villain? Will I make him really in love with Elsa? Or maybe there's another motive? Haha…Btw, your calculations for the tribute deaths are not inaccurate, and from this chapter onwards, the numbers are going to start plummeting. **

**Awsomaniatica: You are absolutely right about the detailed characters being hard to get rid of, which is probably why everyone in my story is taking forever to die. But I just can't take it when characters aren't developed properly, or no backstories to explain them, which is why Suzanne Collin's original novel of 27 chapter has been expanded to a 40+ chapter monster for me. Yay. **

**About Flynn, him being able to figure out the relation between Corona and Rapunzel comes from him being extremely well connected and privy to many secrets, much like…Finnick. Why was Rapunzel taken? You have indeed asked the correct question. **

**The next update should be next week, hopefully. In between competition and a growing work pile, I 've been getting sick pretty often. I'll see if I can manage. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	33. Chapter 31: Come Morning Light

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 31: Come Morning Light

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

It was just physics. For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction.

"We're almost there. Just-just, hang on, okay?"

Punch a wall? It'll break your arm. Stretch a rubber band and let go? It'll flick back. Throw a sword straight into a forcefield? It'll come flying out in the exact opposite direction, with the same amount of force.

You can't blame physics. You can't even blame the force field. You could blame the person throwing the sword, but Merida doubted Stabbington could have even fathomed such a tactic.

So, blame the people who put the force field there. Blame the people who put them in the Arena.

If it had been up to her, the sword wouldn't have been taken out at all, but Vanellope had complained that it was uncomfortable. So, with much reluctance, the elder girl had removed the blade, then plunged it into the cold body of the District 7 boy. When the hovercrafts came for his body, they would take the weapon with him, so no other person could ever use it again. Merida suppressed the temptation to twist the blade in his ribs – it wouldn't have hurt him now, but she could at least grant him a little respect in his death, even though he didn't deserve it.

The lass had requested to be taken back to the forest – the events at the cliff had been of the most unpleasant nature, after all. So Merida had taken up her small form, trying not to jostle the girl's wound too much as she carried her back to camp. She had been largely quiet, so much that Merida had been afraid that she would succumb to the darkness in while she still in her friend's arms.

Yes, she was Vanellope's friend, and Vanellope was hers. _Live with it, Gamemakers. _

Her arms were held the girl by her knees and her supported her back. If her crooked left arm screamed under the pressure, she bore with it with silence. The girl's head was rested against her chest, her own little hands wrapped together over the wound. Her breathing was unsteady and wheezy, and occasionally she would let out a moan in pain. But each time Merida stopped in panic, the lass would quip some half-hearted insult and tell her to press on.

When they finally arrived back at camp, Merida made a move towards the cave, but Vanellope halted her.

"Under the trees," she whispered. " I like it here."

The redhead was more than willing to concede, gently lowering the lass down to forest floor, with the fallen leaves acting as a cushion. Without meaning to, her gaze fell on the small, red fingers pressing against the injury, the blood still seeing through the coat and shirt.

Vanellope spoke first. Her voice was weak. "You have to win."

Merida wasn't going to spew silly lies like '_don't say that. We'll do it together' _or '_only if you promise to get better_'. Her blue eyes met the brown pair, and both of knew what they daren't admit. So, she promised, "I will. For both of us."

The girl grinned, but it was far too weak to have her usual cheekiness. "Show the d-damned Capitol, Frizzles."

She tried to raise a fist, only to let her arm fall limp. Merida was quick to take up that bloodied hand, unfold I her fingers. Pressing comforting squeeze in the tinier palm, she couldn't help the single droplet then came running down her face. Without letting go of the girl hand, drawing herself closer, using her other hand to brush back the black bangs off the girl's forehead. She tried to smile."You bet I will."

Vanellope turned herhead up towards the red and yellow canopy above them, listening in the peaceful twittering of birds. Her body, which had been almost convulsing violently when Merida had first yanked out the metal blade, now seemed to relax. In this place, Turbo seemed too far away. Careers were out of sight and mind. There were no Hunger Games – just two of them together, deep in the woods, holding the other's hand.

The younger girl's breaths were getting shallower, and pained expression came on her face every so often. Merida tried murmuring soothing sounds, something like what her mother would during thunder storms when she was but a babe. It didn't seem to help much, but she didn't honestly know what else to do. And if she didn't do something, she knew she'd just break down and bawl.

"Could you sing?"

Of all possible requests the girl could make, this was the most unexpected. Merida had to admit that she was quite stunned by the idea. "Sing?"

"Don't act like... you don't know... what singing-" Vanellope trailed off, the hint of her usual crispness fading as her breaths became increasingly airy.

Merida's brows shot up in alarm, grabbing her hands again. "No, no, I'll sing! Just don't...don't go yet."

The black haired girl nodded, but both of them knew that the choice wasn't really theirs to make.

Letting go of the girl's hand and going full on her knees such that her head was hangoing just over Vanellope's own to, Merida licked her lips nervously. "I do know a song, but it isn't...it's in a different language."

"Your district …slang thingy?" Vanellope managed to deadpan, even though she was starting to pale. "Couldn't you ...just, like... t-translate it?"

"I-I'll try," the redheaded girl answered stutteringly. Vanellope leaned herself back, wincing painfully as she did, her eyes opened, but unfocused.

Merida cleared her throat, brushing back her red curls. She wasn't the singing type. Singing was one of those 'girly' things that her mother had pressed her to learn as part of her lady lessons. In her opinion, the art of melding ones voice with a melody and rhythm was about as useful as knowing how to fold a napkin. But she wasn't about to refuse a girl on her deathbed. A _friend_ on a deathbed.

It was a simple lullaby, one that she had often heard as a child. She had never really taken notice of the words before, but translating and, of course, adapting it, required her to think more deeply into the soul of song.

_"L'il Lassie, _

_Hear my voice,_

_I sit here beside you, _

_O maiden fair." _

The little girl's eyelids fluttered shut, and her chest stopped heaving so quickly. Her grip loosen as the pain slowly ebbed away in the older girl's raspy, yet clear voice.

_"Brave young lady, _

_sleep and dream, _

_Of your land, _

_Your own faithful land."_

Merida saw a ghost of smile cross the girl's chaffed lips, wondering if she was imagining about her little imaginary kingdom -ahem, _constitutional democracy_\- again, pretending to lead her band of enthusiastic go-kart racers past cola-mountains and through candy-cane trees.

_"The sun and the moon,_

_they'll guide you there._

_To the hour,_

_of glory and ho-nour."_

The mildest streaks of sunlight filtered through the red leaves, before a little gust pried them from their branches. The falling leaves swayed in the breeze, twirling as they danced downward, stopping to rest as the feet of the forest, where a listening child lay.

Merida's voice was cracking, but she couldn't stop.

_"Li'l Lassie, _

_Brave young Lady,-"_

The girl went completely still, her hands fallen by her sides, her eyes shut, yet it seemed that her head was still lifted to the clouds. Never did a shabby, dirty-haired girl looked so frail and yet so strong as Vanellope von Schweetz did.

_"-Noble Maiden Fair."_

The cannon sounded almost just at the same time as the song finished. Then there was was only silence – even the birds ceased to sing.

There was silence when Merida planted a kiss on the still girl's forehead. Silence when she drew back the girl's black bangs once more, adjusting the green clips against her head. Silence when she zipped the girl's tattered jacket up, over the hideous red stain with tears spilling down her nose and chin.

Roughly, the redhead threw her bow aside, dropping her quiver after it, a whimperescaping her lips as she did. Her usual caution warned her against letting her guard down – Turbo, or other tributes could be lurking about. But she told caution to go hang itself – caution was what the way the Capitol wanted her to think. Well, forgive her if she didn't feel very submissive today. She balled her fists, hissing curses in both common speech and slang in between sobs. The release felt good, but it couldn't reverse what had been done. The Capitol had won.

_A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal_ – Noble Maiden Fair. It was a song that spoke of a girl blossoming into a fine young woman. She had to change the words while singing, obviously, because Vanellope would never get to live long enough to become that woman.

The Gamemakers probably wanted her to leave – she could hear the hovercraft flying overhead just now, probably going to pick up the District 7 boy. She gazed at the tranquil visage donned by the younger girl, a new resolution built inside her. The Capitol could take her life, yes, but they could not take her dignity.

Picking herself of the ground, the redhead returned to the forest, searching through the vegetation hurriedly. The flowers in the Autumn Quarter were much fewer and plainer than those she saw in the Spring Quarter, but Merida grabbed them by the handfuls nonetheless. Large maples leave of assorted colors that earned her approval also joined her bundle.

When she was back at Vanellope's side, she began to place the flowers and leaves around the little girl. She wasn't the most skilled in arrangement, but part of her 'lady-classes' included the handling of plant decorations, and for once, she was thankful her mother had made her learn them after all.

When she was done with making wreaths around Vanellope, she added the final touch. She slipped a few cyclamens into the girl's black head, then placed a bouquet of them in the small crimson hands, covering any sign of the brutal damage. Even though the little girl still looked vunerable, she no longer looked broken. Vanellope had gone where the sun and the moon could watch her forever, guiding her onto her speeding path of victory.

Bitter tears still streaked her face, but Merida felt an odd sense of triumph. The Gamemakers wouldn't have a choice but to show this on screen – they couldn't take their cameras off their eleven-score girl in her biggest moment of anguish. But she turned the tables on them; she would shame them by taking what they have desecrated and making it whole.

Her work now done, Merida rose reluctantly to her feet. She had to keep moving. She needed to chase down Turbo and eliminate the Careers. She needed to keep a promise, and win. For Vanellope.

She had first come to the Games hoping to earn the right to design her fate, hoping to become some kind of _hero_ to her district. But the engraved words at the back of her bow told her that she was already someone's hero, and it wasn't by winning the Game, but befriending a _glitch_. A snarky, cynical, wonderful little glitch.

Her bow and her quiver strapped to her back again, she headed back to the forest. But she couldn't help throwing one last glance at the girl. If she hadn't known what had transpired earlier that morning, Merida might have thought the lass was merely sleeping.

She brought three fingers of her left hand to her lips, then held it out to the girl.

Then she turned and never looked back again.

* * *

**District 11**

Few knew her face, even less knew her name, but when the District 5 girl with the magnificent mane of red curls had delivered a salute to the little ruffian from their district, she had earned District 11's respect in full.

Dozens of denizens stood in the square; mothers, working men, old folks. Street children took the majority, however, since the district somehow had an unfortunate abundant supply of orphans. Too many parents had died, all for the wrong reasons.

Amongst the orphans was a blonde young man, who like many of his friends was unfortunately small in stature, due to the lack of nutrition in his diet, and rather long in name. However, when he had raised a three-fingered salute to the redheaded girl on the screen, the crowd had no problems seeing it, or copying it. All stood in silence, their arms raised in the sky, the air thick with solemnity.

There had been a time when many teens in that crowd, especially those who had grown up with her, had wronged Vanellope Von Schweetz. But they had repented, promising to be better, even becoming friends with the girl. She had brought them together, uniting the parentless street urchins to become a family, to care for one another in a place where few were willing to even give a neighbour a kind nod. The District people had called them 'the Vandals'.

Today, their leader had fallen, and the Vandals were angry.

"Rancis, what should we do?" the girl called Candlehead next to the blonde boy asked. Both of them were seventeen, but you would have never guessed from their height alone. Some other children around them glanced at her, then turned towards him.

The boy dropped his arm, taking a few steps back, hesitating. They were looking for a new leader, and it was known that he had been closest to Vanellope before she was taken.

Before she was _murdered_.

By nature, Rancis Fluggerbutter was a vain, selfish young man, but he did not have a bad heart, like Vanellope. However, he also didn't have a cool head, _also _like Vanelllope.

"Burn it."

The Vandals glanced at each other, slightly shocked, then back at him again.

"Burn the containers that they're sending to the Capitol. All of it."

The other children went quiet for a moment, some looking jittery and all afraid. Then, another girl called Jubileena stepped forward, uttering in a tone of utmost seriousness, "For Vanellope."

"For Vanellope," the Vandals repeated solemnly, crossing their hearts as they did. Without the slightest hesitation, the children darted out of the square, pushing past the shocked adults, heading straight to the storage barns, where metal containers holding the Captiol's feed were. Peacekeepers were patrolling the area, but they were only armed with T-batons, and against the swarms of children, they couldn't hold up their own. Adults working around there stood a while in shock at first, but then they too fighting when some of the soldiers began smacking the children bloody. Soon enough, everyone was locked in battle. Years of suffering under the biting whips and bullets of the Peacekeepers was burning into fiery anger – anger against the injustices to the people of District 11, and their children.

Some teenagers began tipping over the cartons bearing a week's worth of vegetables, tossing it to the ground. Others began setting smashing fruit crates – fruits that they broke their backs for, but could never taste. Stronger ones fought the Peacekeepers back, taking their batons and beating them up with. Rancis and Candlehead took a different route from the other, going to the office within the storage areas. Grabbing papers bearing order codes or list of 'disruptive' citizens, they tossed them to the ground, then set them on fire.

The entire District was in chaos; incensed people were running everywhere, screaming tyranny. Children stood by men and women, charging forward and breaking the lines formed by the Peacekeepers. Fists were raised in the air, and voices were shouting for equality.

Then, from above descended the hovercrafts.

At the sight of them, some scurried, and even those who stood their ground were frozen stiff in fear. New ranks of white-coats joined the old, bearing machines and arms.

Bullets were sprayed into crowds without warning, and people began to flee. Miscreants of the law were beaten down, regardless of age. Not all the Vandals managed to escape. Swizzles, another one of theirs, fell during a firing, and he never got up. Jubilenna was smacked down on the street by the soldiers. Rancis vaguely recalled watching guards dragging Candlehead's limp form down the street, before he felt puncture in his ribs. Firm armored hands grabbed his sides, pulling him into one of the Peacekeeping vehicles and shoving him in with the other detainees. If they sentenced him to the stocks this round, it would considered lucky.

* * *

**Capitol – Game Centre**

Oh, yes. Let's everyone just blame good old _Pitch, _because obviously the inefficient Peacekeeping corp. and the ineffectual Mayor of District 11 didn't play any part in this.

When after he had been escorted off the Presidential Estate, he had returned to the Game Centre – the Head Gamemaker was technically not supposed to leave the Game Control in live Game time, after all. It was really annoying at how much protocol was being disregarded this year, but when President Lotso asked for you personally, only a suicidal maniac would turn him down.

"_Fix this mess, Black_" had been the blunt order delivered to him. Pitch scowled, rolling his yellow eyes in vexation, but he couldn't dismiss this threat the way he usually did. The president had appeared truly and severely displeased by the riots, and for once, Pitch felt that perhaps his usefulness might soon run dry. This put him a rather irritable mood, which why he was especially unpleasant to the mentor and the stylist that approached him in the Game Centre lobby.

"No."

The stylist looked slightly surprised, but the mentor's expression hardly changed, as if he expected such a response.

The Gamemaker elaborated snidely, "The idea alone is preposterous, and considering the amount of problems already on my plate - thanks to the little mutant your district so graciously provided - don't expect me to take any of your 'suggestions' to heart." Yes, the ice mutant was his favorite, but the administrative and political issues she had conjured up since entering the Arena were completely unforgivable.

The pale-skinned stylist, Olaf, raised a brow. "You're really not getting this, are you?"

The mentor took a more objective approach. "Mr. Black, as someone who has lived through four other Head Gamemakers, I would know what I am saying when I say that a move like this is necessary, especially for a time like this."

"But there is a reason why _those_ four other Head Gamemakers have been removed, and why _I've_ held this position for thirty years," Pitch pointed out acridly, folding his robed arms. "If you ask me, Mr. Pabbie, you're just trying to buy favors for your mentees."

"Maybe I am, but that's hardly the focus," the old man step-sided the accusation mildly. "The point is that things in the districts are getting a little rough because of what that girl from District 5 did. Now, I'm not saying that you can't handle it. You have the experience-" for Pitch had begun to narrow his eyes at him "-but I am saying that handling them would be so much easier if you give them a distraction."

The Head Gamemaker repeated skeptically, "A distraction?"

Pabbie and Olaf nodded simultaneously.

"And your idea of a suitable distraction is-"

"-young love," the funny little stylist finished for him.

"A little bit of hope never hurt," added Pabbie, his impassive face revealing nothing.

Pitch mused over this a while, but the notion, besides the laughableness of it, from still didn't sit well with him. "A little hope is always good, but too much-"

"BLACK!"

The heads of all three men turned in the direction of the holler, but only one of them recognized the baleful woman advancing.

"Would you give me a moment, gentlemen?" He excused himself, before heading in the direction of a certain storming blonde woman.

He began, "Tamora, what a lovely sur-"

_Smack!_

People in the lobby all fell silence it the wake of the resounding blow.

Pitch hissed, rubbing his smarting jaw. He was annoyed but hardly shocked. "That _hurt_."

_Wham!_

This time he didn't comment, only giving her a withering look. The spectators decided that it would be best not to face the wrath of either party, so they went back to minding their own business. The deliverer of the blows merely pulled her gloves tighter around her fingers, not even a little remorseful.

The Head Gamemaker emitted a low snarl, giving her a dark look. "What do want, Tam?"

"This isn't a social call, and I don't recall giving you the leave to use my first name."

Pitch snorted, gritting his teeth together. "What do you want, _Sergeant Calhourn_?"

"Better." The woman nodded, clapping her hands together, then putting them on her hips. "Explanations. Now."

He furrowed his brows together. "For?"

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping in volume but not steeliness. "One: Two mutants in. Why? Two: Lost a mutt – don't think I didn't notice. Three: tributes found a blindspot. Four: a freakin' riot started in District 5." She drew back, folding her arms to mirror him. "You have one job, Black - run a smooth set of Games. _One job!_"

He frowned, his own tone turning cold. "This is hardly your concern, Sergeant. You're not on the Game control this year. And will never be again, if I can help it." He muttered the last line under his breath.

"Well, you should have thought twice about kicking me out!" she retorted with much icy vigor, her voice hitching a few decibels.

"I let you stay as Head Trainer," protested the Head Gamemaker hotly. Letting out an irritated growl, he said, "Why do you just join the happy little kill team and leave me alone with my Games, Sergeant?"

"Two words, Black." She grabbed him by the collar, yanking him till their faces were but inches away, so that he could see exactly how serious she was. "_National Security_." Her eyes hardened, her head cocked to a side. "_You're _making my job difficult."

"Lotso's little lapdog, as ever," sneered the pale man, undaunted by her threats.

"My loyalties are with Panem, and he happens to be its leader," Calhourn answered just as harshly. She let him go, allowing him to straighten his collar, making a scornful huff. Ignoring his distasteful expressions, she continued, "So look lively, Pitch, because I'm your new auditor."

"_What!"_

"Every slip-up, every snag, I'll know about it. You have any schemes hidden up those obsolescent sleeves of yours, I'll know. Give me just _one_ reason-" she jabbed a finger in his face, "-why I should take you down, and, I will."

Drawing up herself proudly, the soldier marched away towards the elevator. The Head Gamemaker supposed that she would probably install herself quickly into the Control and start rummaging through his files. Oh, _joy. _

He had never really made any moves against the Sergeant before – nothing permanent at least. She had never really been a rival, because she hadn't vied for his position. Besides that, she was possibly one of the most decorated patriots in Panem, with achievements in the military, the public sector, the Game Council and, most notoriously, the ministry of internal affairs a.k.a. the secret police. It was said that she has personal rapport with the president, having saved him from an assassination attempt back when she was still Corporal. Removing her would unfortunately garner too much unwanted attention to himself, which was why Pitch had never resorted to it.

All the same, it's a pity she had to start sticking her nose in, because things were going so swimmingly – some things, at least – and that progress maybe well lost now if she really gets her fingers into it. Perhaps he could throw her off his scent if there were other drastic events to distract her. Like another mutant. Or a riot.

Or _young love._

Grinning smugly to himself, he sauntered back to the mentor and stylist of District 12, who were mildly astonished that he approached them this time.

"Terribly sorry about that little…interruption. Now, where were we?"

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"_Born of cold, and winter air-"_

Shudder.

Jack rubbed his nose instinctively, even though he didn't have a cold. His stomach was feeling increasing queasy.

"-_and mountain rain combining-"_

Okay. He couldn't hold it in.

Leaning himself forward, he bent himself forward, letting his jaw hang loose. A familiar wave of nausea washed over him again, and this time he felt his body jerk forward, and from his throat came the volley of acid mixed with his half-disgusted breakfast. _'Real waste of food'_ was his first thought, then he lurched again.

It was a good minute before he stopped, though the smell of his mess tempted him to go again. He felt an amused tug at the corner of his lips even as he wiped the excess away. He wondered what his wonderful fans thought of his _elegant_ display. Still the ideal Romeo?

It was a good thing he decided to wander away from camp - it would have been horrid for his lady-like ally if he did this over there, after all. Or perhaps she wouldn't have minded, since she had been the one who had specifically instructed him to stay put. In a matter of fact, she would be furious if she knew that he decided to go find water on his own.

Speaking of water, he was really thirsty. The acid was really stinging his throat.

He moved away from the sorry tree that had been the receiving end of his regurgitation. Using his staff like a walking stick, he groggily headed for the river that was a few strides away. The weather didn't really feel that cold, but he couldn't help shivering with every step he took. When he had irately questioned her of why she hadn't woken him to take over watch, Elsa had explained to him that he had a fever. He felt his own forehead. It didn't really feel particularly warm, but he supposed his body could deceive himself.

Stopping by water's edge, he squatted down, washing off the stains of vomit, then taking a long drink. Even though it was quenching, he felt like gagging on the cool liquid. It was too cold. Everything was too cold.

Dipping his hands in again, he was splashed some water over his face, hoping to drive away the giddy sensation attacking his brain. Running a wet hand through his brown tufts, he paused to gaze at his own reflection when the waters stilled.

Boy, he looked ghastly. His skin was as pale as parchment, and his eyes appeared hollowed out. His face had become gaunt, tight around his cheek bones – even though Elsa and him were, he suspected, better fed than most other tributes, their unbalanced diets were starting to take a toll on their bodies. Maybe if they could find some vegetables in here that would…

His ruminations came to a pause at that moment, because while peering at the water surface, he was spotted something rather unusually. In the red-yellow foliage of a tree branch, sprouted from a maple behind him, hanging over the river, he had spotted a curious set of green eyes.

He resisted the temptation to glance up – that would inform the person, whoever it was. So forcing himself to stay a picture of obliviousness, he decided to continue singing the old mountain song he heard his father sing so long ago.

"_-So cut through the heart, cold and clear,-"_

He made a show of washing his face again, but carefully straining the water just between his palms so that he could still watch the spy through the ripples.

"_-Strike for love and strike for fear.-"_

He had placed his staff by his side on the ground earlier, so now he picked up again, but only shifting it to put it in front of him. Hopefully, not wielding the weapon would cause his would-be assailant to lower his or her guard.

"_-See the beau-ty sharp and sheer." _

The little light that filtered through the autumn leaves was hardly enough for him to clearly perceive his watcher's actions, even against the shimmering creek, but it was enough for him to be able to pinpoint his or her position.

Jack sang still in his relaxed manner, slightly off-key,

"_Split the ice apart,-"_

His right fingers curled surreptitiously around the staff. The wound on his shoulder, the cause of his misery, flared up slightly in response to that action, but he bore it without complaint. It was going to get worse with what he was about to do, anyway.

"_-be-ware the fro-zen-"_

He broke off suddenly, shooting upright whipping around to face upwards, grabbing his staff up he did. He swung it up to the branches, slamming hard against the wood. There was a surprised yelp, before he noted a blurred figure tumbling from the branches, landing into the water with a splash. The figure groaned, then splashed some more in the water while he tried to scrambling away, only for the curved end of staff to be pointed at him.

Jack warned, "Don't move!"

The figure – a scrawny boy with auburn hair - didn't listen, edging away from the staff, scooping and handful of water and flinging at his attacker's face. Spluttering and swearing as he roughly rubbed his eyes, Jack found the boy waddling hurriedly out the stream, almost reaching the opposite shore.

"Oh, no, you don't." Stretching his staff out swiftly, Jack used to the crook to hook onto the boy's arm, yanking him hard into the river. Before his opponent could retaliate, Jack delivered a quick jab to the boy's stomach, causing his body to scrunch up in pain. The boy collapsed back into the stream, his yell getting muffled when his head went underwater.

When he resurfaced, Jack was standing over him, the butt of his staff pinning the boy's chest to the river bed, giving him only just enough moving space for his neck to stretch over the water.

"I know this looks harmless, but trust me, I have killed by it." Jack was slightly disconcerted by how tmenacing he managed to sound. The russet-haired boy wriggled all the same, so Jack pressed harder on the staff, forcing him down again.

"Stop moving!" He ordered emphatically. More frightened this time, the boy really stopped, dropping his hands back into the water, panting uneasy with his eyes fixed the staff. Jack's initial relief and satisfaction in capturing his opponent immediately transmuted into fear; fear that he would have to finally face what he had managed to avoid so long.

"Elsa!" He let a call out behind him without taking his eyes off the boy. Maybe he could delay the deed for a while. Or even better, maybe Elsa could do it instead.

No, no, she wouldn't want to do it. Even on top of the mountain back in Winter, when she had pushed the District 4 girl towards the edge, he had known that she hadn't wanted to take a life. Not any more than he did.

He was all about protective instinct, right? And sometimes that meant protecting her innocence over his own.

"So, how's it hanging?"

Jack blinked. He stared down at the boy. He was gangly boy, very skinny. By how much his voice shook, Jack knew that he was afraid, but somehow that didn't stop him from talking. "Hey, aren't you that guy with all the fans?"

The staff-wielding boy was taken aback once more. Incredulity all over his face, he answered, "Yes…"

"You must get a lot of sponsors, don't you?" The boy remarked with a wistful expression. Gazing down at himself, he sighed. "No one'd ever sponsor…all _this_."

Jack had no clue what the boy was mumbling about, but he did know for a fact that the boy had a clear '2' on his shoulder. "You're a career. But-" he ran through the mental list of the Career Pack members in his head "-you're not with them."

The auburn-haired kid appeared nonplussed, muttering wryly to himself, "So the only person who gets it happens to want to kill me too?" Tilting his head back up towards Jack again, his eyes suddenly widened in curiosity. "Are you sick? You don't look good."

"I'm well enough to kill you right now," Jack hissed, but at that moment a wave of dizziness attacked him. He struggled to maintain his hold of the boy. Maybe he'll just wait for Elsa after all, let her handle the talkative kid. A rather disagreeable sensation ran all over his muscles.

"Blood poisoning, isn't it?"

The dizzy spell suddenly fled away. Jack was stupefied, his jaw-hanging open.

The boy continued, "The wound on your shoulder doesn't look treated. And you're pale, and shivering-" so he _had _noticed "-and I saw you throw up-"

"I know what's blood poisoning," Jack cut in curtly, increasing the strength of his grip on his staff.

In District 10, he had seen many of those who had been attacked wolves or coyotes, or something, wild mutts. Sepsis - or blood poisoning – wasn't supposed to be incurable, but when you lived on an income that could only feed you two meals a day, and you had five folks at home counting on you, you weren't paying for the treatment. There was a reason why the lifespan in District 10 was really low.

"Why aren't you cured yet?" _Oh, lord, was the boy still talking in that weird nasally voice?_ "You have lots of sponsors, don't you? Shouldn't your mentor have sent you something?"

"Could you quiet?" He growled at his so-called victim. _Seriously, where was Elsa?_ His head was starting to hurt, and he couldn't tell the cause; his sickness, or the boy. "Elsa!"

"That's your ally, right?" The boy was still chatting away. "Which district is she from?"

"Shut up!"

There was stunned silence at this point. The boy's forest-green eyes seemed somewhat intimidated once more. Jack huffed, raising a hand and running it through his hair. His sleeve fell back at that moment, exposing that arm to the autumn chill. Feeling the wetness against his skin, and a familiar tug at the back of his throat, he quivered, pulling the sleeve down again.

"Wait, where did you get that arm band?"

Jack was startled by the boy's observance. Still, his answer was short. "Not your business."

"Not if I also happen to have one."

Before Jack could stop him, the boy had lifted both hands out of the water, but he didn't make any move to remove the staff. Instead, he simply drew back his own coat sleeve, showing a gleaming metal band on his arm.

Their eyes met, probably the same thoughts rolling in their heads.

Then Jack felt something smack his head really, really hard, and he toppled over into the creek.

* * *

Rapunzel gazed amazedly at the Muttation Manual in her hands, then the boy she had assaulted crumpled by the river shore. "_Whoa-ho!_ I've got to get me one of these!"

'Hiccup stared blankly at her, then at the District 10 boy The taller boy was not unconscious, but for some reason he wasn't getting up, just clutching his head and groaning. She must have whacked him harder than she thought.

"Hiccup, move." After issuing her command, she grabbed the wooden staff that the District 10 boy had dropped, tossing it far out of his reach.

Her fishbone of an ally finally rose to his feet, and by that time, she already had a golden tendril wrapped around the District 10 boy's torso in such a way that his arms were pinned to his side. The brunette boy grunted, fighting weakly against the bonds, but noting the beads of cold sweat running down his head and his clammy skin, Rapunzel had a feeling that he wasn't going anywhere. She dragged his body out of the river, back to the dry shore. As she did, she noticed the ugly red cut –no, _bite_ \- on his shoulder, seemingly plastered with some thin blue netting.

Initially, she had been worried that they might have to… 'k-word' this guy, but now her fears were allayed.

"Good news, Hiccup," she informed her ally with a tint of cynical satisfaction, "I think we can just let his wound take him."

"Erm, no, we can't." His answer caused her some measure of astonishment, causing her to glance back at him with raised brows. He was half-climbing up the slippery dirt of the water's side, speaking he did, "Look on his-"

He was interrupted by a loud '_CRACK_'. In a bat of an eyelid, the gurgling stream was suddenly transformed into a block of frozen water, a white mist floating over it. Instinctively, Rapunzel jerked herself and her prisoner back, inhaling sharply. She immediately held the book up, the other hand clutching the cord which bound her sickly District 10 boy.

"Ack!" The cry from her ally made her realize that his leg was not stuck in the newly-frosted figure. While he strove to pull it free, two sheaths of ice rose from the ground, wrapping them around his arms. "What the-"

"Let Jack go!" The voice was a female one, belonging to a girl probably not much older than herself, but somehow it sounded terrible and frightening, inundated in threat and ferocity. An icy blast swept through the trees at the moments, running up the trunks as splatters of white. Where gold and brown leaves had rained before now had flakes and ice.

Dropping the leather-bound book, Rapunzel rummaged through her satchel contents for a better weaponShe whipped one of her knives out, found its tip, then pressed against the chin of her prisoner.

"Hey! Watch the face." The brown-haired boy muttered in what was supposed to be a snippy manner, but just ended up sounding drained. She could feel his hot breath on her fingers, and in her heart she only had pity, but she only tightened her hold on his shoulder, the blade poised over his throat. She felt shift uneasy below.

"Let my ally go, or I'll crush yours." The owner of the threats had appeared. The first thing that struck Rapunzel was that the girl in question donned dark blue clothes, rather than the usual black. Clearly printed on her jacket sleeve was the number 12, and over her shoulder was a light yellow French braid. The girl's eyes were deep blue, and she was rather pretty, if her present visage wasn't bordering on murderous.

The District 12 girl slid over to where Hiccup was trapped in the lake. He was still tugging at the ice pieces, only glancing up to shoot expressions of complete incredulity. To his captor, he remarked, "So you're the mutant."

It then struck Rapunzel what he meant. The events of the Bloodbath had been full of strange ice formations, and now pieces were falling in place.

This was the mutant they were talking about. Not her. The first mutant – the real mutant, whose powers that could actually take out the entire Arena if the Gamemakers hadn't intervened.

The girl in question ignored the boy's comment, her attentions focused on the drooping lad wrapped in yellow hair. "_Let. Him. Go."_

Swallowing, Rapunzel retaliated in what she hoped was a scary voice, "You can't kill him by ice. The rule, remember?"

The District 12 girl knit her brows together. Rapunzel noted how she clenched her hands, and how those very palms were turning blue.

"Elsa-" the boy called Jack began, but he closed his mouth when his long-haired detainer tapped the cold steel on his Adam's apple.

"My powers are a reflection of my emotions," intoned the cryokinetic mutant coolly, "and I may not be able to control them if you push it."

"Well, you let go of my ally, and there'll be no reason why I should push you." To hold a defiant manner when she was trembling to core was a strain on Rapunzel's self-control, but she didn't want to lose her ally. Hiccup was good company, and he was trustworthy. And it was comforting to have someone to share her secret in the Arena.

It was possible, however, that the other blonde shared similar sentiment towards her own ally, because the ice around Hiccup's arms unfurled, extending to his torso and abdonmen twirling around to his torso. The boy gave a nasally yelp, then turned to face his ally. "Rapunzel, maybe we can-"

"Quiet," the District 12 told him.

The boy insisted on objecting, "But we could-"

The ice rose another inch.

"O-kay. I'll stop."

It was a stalemate. Both males were pinned. Both females had equal ability to execute their hostages. Neither were going to budge till the other made a slip, and that pretty much meant that neither were going to move at all. It was as if the ice girl had cast a spell of frost over then, freezing them in time.

Of course, if Rapunzel was frank with herself, she would note that there was no stalemate at all. No matter what minacious words she could throw out, it was really all just bluff. She couldn't kill Hiccup back in the Summer Quarter, and she was definitely not going to kill the boy who's life's was teetering on the edge of a knife – not of her knife, but the horrid injury that he had. If anything, she'd rather take away his suffering with a song and a glow. That was her power – to restore and to heal.

But the mutant standing on the newly-formed snowdrift did not have such powers, nor such restraint. In a matter of fact, the girl with seventy-feet worth of hair observed that the ice had begun climb out of the riverbed, away from the the trees, reaching toward herself and her prisoner.

"St-stay back." Her arm still hooked on Jack, Rapunzel retreated backwards, warily away from the frosty ground.

"I can't." The District 12 girl snapped, and at that moment, the ice around russet-haired boy rose again, almost obscuring his torso completely, and almost locking in his knees.. He gazed down in his frozen chains with wide eyes, then shot Rapunzel a look of alarm.

The District 8 girl sucked in a breath, securing her hold on Jack a little more. The ice was coming closer to them. "Stop the ice. Or I will do what I need to do.."

Rapunzel then heard a gasp from the brown-haired boy, and felt something warm trickling down her fingers. Sparing a fleeting look at it, she grimaced when she saw that it was red.

"Let him go! Please!" The District 12 girl's tone had abruptly altered to one of pleading. One arm hugged herself, while the other pointed to the boy struggling in the ice. Rather reluctantly, she admitted, "I can't control it."

Then, the long-haired blonde had an unsettling epiphany. The District 12 girl wasn't the one with the cards here. She, Rapunzel, was the deciding factor.

It was literally all in her hands. All she needed to do was slit Ja- the District 10 boy's throat, and the District 12 girl would be enraged enough to freeze Hiccup to death – if she didn't impale him icicles. Assuming that the Gamemakers would respond immediately to that, the ice girl would be eliminated for breaking the rule. Three tributes taken out of the Arena, just like that.

Add with the big blast from the Spring Quarter, she knew that the Careers would run dry, sooner or later. Plus there were the two cannon shots this morning, and supposing those weren't the Careers…there would only five left in the Arena other than herself.

Five out of twenty four. Those were big odds, much bigger than anything she had imagined. For the first times in the Arena, she realized that she might actually stand a chance of going home. Alive.

All she needed to do was ram the blade into the brunette boy's neck.

The idea still repulsed her, but the reward was … it would be a dream. It was would be practical, and no one would blame her for what she did. At least, those who would wouldn't be alive by then. It was such a good plan.

But still something held her back. Something stilled her arms muscles, preventing her from completing the deed. The face from another brunette, with a flashy smile and sad eyes, and the dark expressions he'd make when he thought no one was looking. He had done terrible things in his year of Games, that she knew, and he hated himself for it.

Was it worth it? To be a victor? To leave the Games in body, but never in mind? Eugene wanted her to win, yes, but she doubted he'd want her to win the way he did.

Her internal conflict was then interrupted, and thereafter put aside and completely forgotten.

A voice called in the sky, _"Attention tributes-"_

* * *

**S/N: **

**If it wasn't clear enough yet, Vanellope was killed when the sword that Stabbington threw hit the forcefield (the forcefield coats the entire Arena like a semi-spherical globe cover, and since Team Wildchilds were at the edge of the Autumn Quarter, the 'sky' they saw was really just a projection on the forcefield) was reflected, and it hit her.**

**I pulled the Noble Maiden Fair translation of google and made my own adaptation to fit the tune better, and for other reasons. To see what Merida had to change, feel free to google yourself.**

'**The Vandals' of the District 11 are essentially are members of Sugar Rush from **_**Wreck-it-Ralph**_**. They're not especially important, but they are Vanellope's 'gang' (she references to them Chap 24). Rancis Fluggerbutter being chosen to be Van's sort-of closest friend in District 11, and subsequently her 'successor', is based on the kid's book **_**One Sweet Race. **_**(And also because Taffyta's dead by now…)**

**So after her first cameo in Chap 6, Sergeant Calhourn from **_**Wreck-it-Ralph**_** enters officially. Took me some time decide if I wanted her in or not.**

**Oh, Jack sings 'Frozen Heart' from **_**Frozen**_**. Why not?**

**It's a new day in the Arena, and it's been sometimes since anyone died anyway. So here's the Recap, with a sad addition to the list to the Death list:**

**Death Recap:**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**6 - Taffyta**

**7 – Male &amp; Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno**

**9 - Nameless Boy, Nameless Girl**

**10 – Toothiana**

**11 - Vanellope**

**Remaining Players**

**1 - Gothel, Shen**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup**

**3 - Hiro**

**4 - Dagur**

**5 - Merida**

**6 - Turbo**

**8 - Rapunzel**

**10 - Jack**

**11 - Ralph**

**12 - Elsa, Hans**

**Known Alliances (&amp; my l'il names for them)**

**The Careers: Gothel, Shen, Astrid, Dagur**

**Team J.E.: Jack, Elsa**

**The Dark Team: Turbo, Male Stabbington - (DISBANDED)**

**Team Wildchilds: Merida, Vanellope -(DISBANDED)**

**Team Arthouse: Hiccup, Rapunzel**

**Metal Band Band (I won't be changing this much, but this is just a reminder)**

**Hiro - 2 bands**

**Jack**

**Rapunzel**

**Hiccup (Hiro doesn't know, and Hiccup sorta semi-get it.)**

**Next Chapter: It has to do with the announcement.**

* * *

**A/N** **:**

**If anyone somehow likes reading the stuff I write, I have started a new story called The Once and Future King, which is a ROTGxHTTYD(xFrozen too, and other ROTBTFD characters) fic set in BBC's Merlin AU, with Hiccup as Prince Arthur and Jack as Merlin, and Elsa (later) as Morgana. It's so-called drabble series (so-called, because I suspect it will snowball into another full novel. Yay.). It however has erratic updates and much shorter chapters, because it's purely for fun and glory, while The Odds of Five still takes precedence. Thank you for watching SharKohen's shameless advertisements.**

**Mailbox:**

**Anon: The note in the S/N should have helped clarify it.**

**Sevenise: Sure no probs! Happy Reading!**

**Waveringshadow: Yeah, people take forever to die in my story, don't they? I didn't think of the deaf spot think, but now that you brought it up, I shall forever have it glued to my head. **

**Buttermilk and Cookie Butter: I hope the singing lived up to your expectation. Yeah, the Rue-Katniss parallel for this is so tragic till the point my brother has refused to read this story because of this event. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Guest: Thank you so much! I will update as best that I can. **

**Maggietheawesome: Thanks for understanding! Van's death was supposed to be more like Rue's one initially, with Stabbington throwing the sword at her and piercing her straight, but I wanted to 1) give some false hope that I wouldn't kill her and 2) tie up the loose end about the forcefield foreshadow in chap 5. The odds of five indeed means that only five wouldbe rescued, so good luck calculating the survivors. To killElsa... The Gamemakers may not have a choice if she steps out of line. Whoa! Alll the ideas to kill Turbo! Wow, which will I ever pick? (Oops, spoiler. But then, you don't expect him to be part of the five, do you?)**

**WarriorQueen 14: Glad the forcefield surprised you, because I really love that idea. As funny as it would have been, the Mordu won't fly back up. The difference is that the Mordu fell DOWN the cliff into the water, while the sword flew straight ACROSS. (Think of the forcefield as a semi-spherical cap over the Arena.) Hans falling in love Elsa in the Games? Hard. But what if he fell for her before that? ...never mind. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. **

**Awsomaniatica: Trust me when I say that things for everyone only gets worst after this event. And I'm not sorry to give you another cliffhanger. (I noticed the pun. Thanks.) **

**manyoptsforlife: Aww, thanks. I'm really sorry about what I just did, and am sorry for other things to come. **

**Lostblueheart 16: Hiccup and Merida will meet at some point, sooner than you think, and they will have a rather ...interesting relationship (at least I think it's interesting). Van had to go for 1) she's essentially Rue with a smart-mouth 2) Merida needed to see that there're more than one way to be hero, and this is one of her biggest tipping points. **

**Smilingstarcat: I love the parallels (and trust me, they don't stop here). The explanation why the Mordu doesn't fly back up is in WarriorQueen 14's answer. The difference between the forcefield arrangements on the Game Centre rooftop (where Van and Mer met) and the Arena is that the Game Centre Rooftop had its forcefields arranged such that people who tried to jump off would be bounced back up, but the Arena is not designed that way (semi-spherical cap). Thanks for reviewing and please enjoy. **

**Thanks for your reviews guys! Will really try to update next week if I can. (And studies don't come battle-ramming my door with a log).**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	34. Chapter 32: Banded

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 32: Banded

* * *

**Capitol – Game Centre**

"-and he tends to be very short-tempered, but all in all, he's not a bad guy."

Gogo stared at the brunette man by her side, the gum in her mouth expanding at the same time into a small balloon.

"Okay." The Capitol's most fashionable man cleared his throat awkwardly. "So…let's go in then."

Flynn turned the brass knob of the mahogany door, swinging it open for her. The bubble gum burst at that moment, so she was far to occupied in sucking it back into her mouth to give tell him off for doing that.

Strolling into the private lounge, she began blowing out another bubble while letting her eyes adjust to the incandescent chandelier lights. Because of that, she heard it coming first.

Flynn's voice came almost too late, "Watch out!"

Without even changing expression, Gogo raised her arm, her fingers deftly snatching the flying projectile from the air. There was silence in the lounge, only broken by the door creaking on the hinges. The pink blob bubble gum between her lips had yet to burst, even when she tilted her head to scrutinize the boomerang fully.

A long minute later, in which Flynn decided to close the door, she finally popped the bubble, sucking the gum back between her cheeks. She raised her head at the gray-haired man seated across the room, commenting impassively, "Nicely balanced. Made it yourself?"

You could hear a pin drop even on the thickly carpet ground while the two strangers gave each other level gazes, with an awkward Flynn darting glances at both of them.

The man on the couch was probably twice her age, with a remarkable amount of tattoos on around his face and arms. He was lean, but muscular – an athlete and fighter. Rather gruffly, he answered, "Sure did."

"Not bad." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it back to him and it slipped back into his hands like it never left. His face betrayed little of his thoughts, but Gogo was pretty sure that he was impressed.

"So, um, Bunnymund." The handsome, annoying young man was eager to establish some semblance of cordiality. "May I introduce to you Leiko, also known as 'Gogo', winner of the 73rd Ga-"

"I watched it," the elder man interrupted abruptly. Toying with the wooden weapon in his hand, he said still in his rough voice, "Sorry about your friend."

"Thank you." Her answer was as emotionless as it was abrupt.

"Real bad luck that his brother got in the following year, huh?"

Gogo's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching and her feet going forward unconsciously. Her actions however were caught and halted by the firm grip from the victor only four years older than her.

"He didn't mean anything by it," Flynn murmured in low voice, while she fought against his hands.

She pried her hands out him, giving him a warning glare, but his assurance managed to somewhat mollify her. So when she approached the tea table and sat herself on the armchair opposite the irate-looking mentor, she managed to look not entirely hostile. Emphasis on 'not entirely', of course.

"I don't have a lot of time to waste, Rider." Bunnymund spoke his mind, that was apparent. "Because if you don't mind, I'd much rather be burying this-" he lifted the boomerang, twirling it between his fingers, "-in Black's bloody skull for the sick things that he cooks up in there."

"He blockaded your gifts, didn't he?" Gogo put in before Flynn had a chance. She didn't flinch under the disbelieving gaze from the middle-aged man. "Because of what's going down tomorrow."

Bunnymund didn't answer, merely looking at her, as if trying to make up his mind about the young teenager. Quite suddenly, he threw the boomerang out, just over his guest heads. Flynn made a yelp and ducked, but Gogo sat absolutely still, waiting for the projectile to spin over her head, before smacking into a glass flower vase on far-off side table. The vase shattered, its pieces spilling to the ground as the boomerang spun back to it owner, who captured it skillfully again.

Then Bunnymund said, "You have something to offer." It wasn't a question.

"Me? Not much," she replied frankly, allowing herself to fall back against the plushbacking. "But my mentee can arrange the circumstances to aid yours. All I need is your cooperation."

She gave Flynn a meaningful look at that moment, and Bunnymund noticed it. He made a face the stylish young man, but at least he didn't seem all that the disapproving of the idea.

A thoughtful moment later, the old mentor asked, "What can I do?"

"Pitch has blockaged your gifts, but what about messages?"

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Sitting across each other by a fire, conversing over a meal felt horribly surreal. In a matter of fact, having a fire at night was surreal. Had it been just himself and Rapunzel, they would have never dared to have one. But now that they were four, they were had the advantage of numbers – except maybe against Careers. But evenings in the Autumn Quarter were cold, and the new-founded female ally was extremely keen on having a flame for her male companion.

Just looking the District 12 girl still gave Hiccup the jitters though. A tremor ran up his spine as he recalled how close he had been to being turned into an ice statue. It was the announcement that really saved his life.

"_Attention, tributes_. _You are all invited to a feast."_

Hiccup remembered how all four them simply had exchanged looks of skepticism with each other. 'Feasts' were not uncommon tools that Gamemakers liked to use when they felt there wasn't enough gore on the screen. It was tactic to drawn reluctant tributes together and force to battle, till there was enough to quench the Capitol's bloodlust for a day or two. Well, it wasn't going for work for Rapunzel and him, that he had known, since the Autumn Quarter was quite well-stocked in foods like roots and bark – boring, tasteless stuff, but edible nonetheless. Considering the District 12 girl had mutant powers, he hadn't doubted the other pair of tributes probably had their own methods of attaining food.

But James Sullivan had seemed to have read their minds - _"Before you turn it down, hear what I have to say; each of you are in need of something desperately, whether it's something to save your life-" _Hiccup had noted that the ice mutant had given a sharp glance to her ally at that point of time "-_or something that would give you an enormous advantage. You will find that thing in a backpack at the Cornucopia at dawn tomorrow. Consider this offer carefully; it may be your only hope."_

He had had to ransack his brain for a good moment. Rapunzel and himself hadn't seemed to be in need of anything in particular – beside a huge distance from the scary ice person who had him encased like a Popsicle, but something that could give him a huge advantage was …_tools. _In the course of hastily fleeing from the Summer Quarter, they had somehow managed to lose most of his remaining materials; ropes, nails, and even his trusty hammer eventually. Even if they had managed to keep those, he had already used most of the nets and ropes to build the dragon traps in that Quarter. His investment had come to nothing, since it had been impossible for himself and Rapunzel to stay in Summer, especially with the Careers scouring that area the day before. That's why they had come to Autumn in the first place.

He hadn't really need to think too hard to figure out what the other team needed anxiously; the shivering boy with the shoulder wound made it obvious enough. That had to be some reason why a tribute with that many sponsors hadn't received a cure yet.

That had to be why the ice mutant had chosen to negotiate with Rapunzel, instead of freezing both her foes' heads off. The Careers, though battered, were still a formidable force. If the ice mutant was going to get the only thing that would save her ally, she needed that advantage of numbers – or at least, numbers to level the playing field.

They had pried himself out of the ice block with the help of a blowtorch that the District 10 boy had graciously provided, and now they were sitting together, chatting like a bunch of teenagers having lunch on the first day of school. Well, all of them, except the ice girl who was called Elsa. She sat apart from them, her legs crossed on a frozen patch, watching three of them with an expressionless face, her hands carefully wrapped around herself. Most of the time, her gaze fell on her brunette ally, who's fever had somewhat cooled thanks the Night Fury saliva had applied to his wound. He had procured some from the black dragon few days earlier back in Summer, and kept it in the wooden water he had made.

"What's a Night Fury?" The boy called Jack had asked him as Rapunzel lathered the gooey liquid on the cut.

Hiccup had opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. He wasn't really to announce to their new company that he had been fraternizing with muttations.

Fortunately, Rapunzel had been quick to cover up his slip. "It's a type of plant. It's sap has healing properties. It's just called saliva because of its transparent appearance. Of course, I think it won't be able to heal it completely. The infection's too far gone." She had added the last bit hastily, just in case the other two had thought of slaughtering them to steal the bottle of healing saliva.

Jack and Elsa had seemed suitably convinced, so there had no further questions on that matter. Sometimes later the questions had drifted to those about their stay in the Summer Quarter, and their respective encounters with the Careers. There had been a few inquiries about the Muttation Manual, but Rapunzel had managed to get the duo to lose interest in it by laughing it off, claiming that it was just full of pictures of his supposed girlfriend. He had spluttered, turning crimson and vehemently contradicting that. Jack had thrown his head back and chortled, but Elsa had merely raised a brow, then continually to somberly eat her meal. After moments of careful observation, Hiccup had concluded that she didn't have a metal band around either of her arms. That probably meant that Jack had managed to get it from Hiro before he teamed up with the mutant.

Speaking of the bands, he still wasn't sure they were for. They were mighty handy for getting into nice hideouts, like the cove in the Summer Quarter, but the whole alliance thing that he had been able to make out from whatever Rapunzel had said before was still largely a mystery. Why would Hiro have such an elaborate system for making allies, and that the very token of that alliance had the abilities to open doors in walls? He had yet to confess to Rapunzel the true circumstances under which he had earned his own band, just in case she might choose not to trust him after that.

He hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation at that point of time, so it truly surprised him at the turn it had taken.

"Hiccup wasn't my first ally. Actually…it was Tooth. Your District mate."

The lull that fell between the four at that moment was almost deafening. The usually cheerful District 10 boy went completely quiet, dropping the stick that he held his rather unappetizing meal. He then asked in a low voice, "Were you there when she..."

_Oh, Thor_. The conversation had taken a very bad turn indeed.

The blonde girl with the huge braid gulped. The same thought must have occurred to her, but there was no way she could escape answering. So she nodded.

Jack drew in a sharp breath, his whole body tensing up. The platinum-blonde girl watching the scene had subtly shifted herself forward, as if readying herself for a possible conflict. Hiccup merely hugged the book hard to his chest, waiting for everything to just implode.

However, Rapunzel spoke again before that could happen, her voice shaking slightly as she did. "We were running from Careers, a-and they were catching up. Tooth – she told me to run, gave me the bag and shoved me off. She,-" the brunette boy leaned in, drinking in every single word "- had this sword, so she went back to fight them. She was very brave."

If the boy was angry, he didn't show it, but Hiccup somehow felt as if anger was the last thing on his mind. Jack drew himself back, still absorbing what must have been still news to him. Rapunzel had spoken sincerely and respectfully – even her voice had thickened halfway through her tale. Danger had been averted. Sort of.

"Excuse me for a moment." The District 10 boy rose brusquely to his feet, striding hurriedly out into the darkness with his staff to steady him, clutching his jacket close to his body.

"Jack?" Elsa had hopped to her feet at the same time as her ally, but the boy hadn't given her even a glance when he had stalked off. She had given the remaining two tributes a worried look, before disappearing into the woods after him.

In the uneasy silence, Hiccup swooped looks with his blonde ally.

She broke it first, "I like Jack. He's nice, especially since I almost…you know, _him_."

"Good, because," he drew closer to her, his volume dipping just in case the ice mutant returned, "he has one of these, you know." He pulled up one of his sleeves, tapping on the silver band around his wrist.

Her mouth fell open. Then she asked, "Then does Elsa…"

He shook his head grimly.

"That complicates things."

"No kidding," he agreed.

"What should we do?"

Any further discussion was interrupted by a strange pinging sound.

"What on Earth is that?" remarked the blonde first. Both of them stood up, gazing skyward to where the sound originated from. Something metal appeared to descending, floating down from between tree branches. Hiccup reached a hand out, catching it before it landed. Against the firelight, they were able to make it out.

"A parachute? Nice." He held it out to her. "Wan'na open it?"

"No," Rapunzel said rather reluctantly. "It's probably Jack's."

"Then they wouldn't have sent it here. Sponsor gifts are very specific in placement." Hiccup examined the container attached to the strings. It was a box around the length of arm, which could contain anything from set of bolts or a coat. Seeing that she was unwilling to touch it, Hiccup undid the latch himself.

A pair of floppy black objects fell out, landing the leaf ground with a thud. Both bent down, picking up the items are.

Rapunzel's eyebrow shot up as realization dawned upon her. She was still very incredulous, however. "But, it _can't_ be…if he could, he would have done it sooner."

Hiccup shrugged, suggesting, "Maybe something came up. Besides," he made a small smile, "who else here is missing footwear?"

The girl spent quite a few moments gazing at the twin boots in complete disbelief, but she looked happy – happier than she had for a long time. Hiccup's smile couldn't fade at the sight of her own, though he couldn't fathom why a pair of boots could make her like that.

Oh well, girls were strange. Or maybe she was just tired of her feet hurting so much.

He scanned the rest of entire metal box, trying to decide if keeping it would give him any advantage whatsoever. When he turned over, a white slip of paper fell out. Quizzically, he retrieved, reading it before he could stop himself.

He turned to Rapunzel, who had slapped on her two new boots and was now admiring how they fit to well around her ankles. Clearing his throat and giving an awkward wave to get her attention, Hiccup then handed her the slip. She read it over, and her eyes widened.

"This is going down faster than we thought."

* * *

"Jack?"

Elsa found him seated on the ground the creek, staring out into space. He didn't seem to shaking or throwing up, which were good signs, but she could definitely feel the heat emitting from his body, even when sitting twelve inches away.

She thought of asking him what was wrong, but observing the solemn visage he wore, and how he wrung the staff in his gloved hands, she figured that perhaps she'd best not pry. The two of them sat in the darkness apart in the silence, listening the mellow gurgles of the initially frozen waters running free again. The white on the trees and the leafy ground has begun to disappear, for which Elsa was glad, rolling off the bark as the translucent liquid that it was meant to be.

"I met her in elementary school."

She jumped her seat when his words broke the peace, a splatter of white forming beneath her fingers at that moment. She brushed the snow off herself hurriedly before he could notice.

"She's the same age as me, y'know, so we had the same classes and stuff. Worked together too in the fields and stables. Long time ago."

She nodded to show she was listening, not trusting herself to speak. She never had any close interactions with anyone after her parents' deaths, and even preceding that she was always distant from her peers. The few good memories that she had her childhood were all before Anna's accident, and they were few in number.

There was a smile on his pale lips, a reminiscence one. "There was this raging old bull – a really violent old guy. Very uncooperative, thrashing about in the place, spooking the other cattle." A chuckle escaped from his throat as he twirled the staff in his hand, slowly digging it into the dirt. "Us boys in the stalls – we were scared-stiff of the thing. Some old guys wanted to have it shot, for safety, but Tooth wouldn't have it. She went straight up to the bull and wrestled with it for three whole hours – she didn't really wrestle-wrestle with it, of course," he quickly explained at the sight of Elsa's unconvinced expression, "it's more like she let it push her around in the mud. But anyway, the bull got tired after that, and that was when she forced open its gob and wrenched out a tooth clean off its jaws. Turned out the bull was just having a toothache, and after that everything was alright."

He laughed a little. As Elsa had come learn, it was a very merry laugh indeed, and it made her smile before she could stop herself. It was Jack's nature, it seemed, to carry joy with him, no matter the mental or physical state.

He hugged the staff close his form, leaning his weight against it, the beam leaving his face as quickly as it came. "I've been blaming myself, y'know."

Her brows shot up as she cocked her head to aside, indicating she wanted to hear more.

Not looking at her, he confessed, "She was supposed to be my ally. Not-not you."

Elsa wasn't supposed to be surprised – alliances of between district mates were very much strategic. But of course the question still bugged her. "Then why -"

"-did I come after you?" He finished for, a wry grin twisting on his lips. Sheepishly, he ruffled his own brown locks, only just meeting her eyes. "Um, because you looked-" he hesitated "-_scared._"

That comment didn't sit well with her pride. "Scared? _Me_? Jack, I have ice-powers," she protested, drawing herself up straight.

"It's perfectly human to be scared."

"Well, I'm not scared –wasn't scared, no matter what you say."

His grin spread fully in amusement. "Really? What about at the ice castle? You were definitely scared."

"I was _not_," she insisted, frowning, but a playful gleam in her eye didn't quite match her scorn. "I fought them off, didn't I? Six people, on my own."

"Even when the District 1 guys –what's his name – Shen almost slashed you?"

A chill ran down her spine at the memory of that, and sliced strands at the end of her blonde braid. Without changing her face, she lied, "No."

"When the chandelier almost fell on heads?"

"Certainly not," she scoffed truthfully this time, sticking her chin out proudly. "I blocked you from it, remember?"

"Ice-skating in the tunnel?"

There he had her speechless.

"Got you there, didn't I?" Jack had the gall to snicker at her blushing face, pointing at her as she did.

She made a mocking pout in return, somehow willing a snowball in her hand and flinging in his face. It was his turn to be confounded, blow off the white flakes from his eyes and nose, then peering at the wet snow sliding off his hair slush by slush. Elsa giggled at his face while he scraped it off, before she realized that quite extraordinarily, the snowball was harmless. Perhaps her hold on her powers was better than she thought.

Well, that was when she picked a leaf from the ground just to test it, and found that it transformed into a crystal within a touch. She buried it in her palms, hoping her companion didn't notice.

He certainly didn't. He had returned to his serious self, though he didn't look unhappy, rocking himself back and forth against the staff.

"After we found out that Tooth – well, yeah, I pretty much took it on myself." She nodded, not just because she understood what he said, but because she could now make sense of his dampened moods after that fateful day. "She once said that I'm a protector – a _guardian,_ and" he swallowed, "and I felt like I _failed_ to live up to that. That I failed her."

He suddenly reeled back at that moment, and Elsa's hands stretched towards him, as if wanting to catch him in case he should fall, then drawing her hands back last minute when she reminded herself that she couldn't do that. Fortunately, he managed to steady himself by pressing one palm to the ground, the other to his forehead.

"We should get back to camp," she heard her practical voice speaking stiffly through her mouth. "Your illness might kick in any moment."

He shook his head, waving her off. "I'm fine, really."

She was unconvinced, but she didn't press it. By how he relaxed he was, propping himself by his arms and reclined against them, she supposed that perhaps that strange medicine that the other two tributes had given him wasn't completely poisonous.

He continued form he had had left off earlier. "So, yeah, I've been mentally beating myself up – sorry about the moodiness," he awkwardly apologized. "But now, after hearing what Rapunzel said now, I…I don't hate myself anymore." There was something in his eyes that Elsa found to be new; a new light in them, that perhaps indicated a new revelation.

"I think I misjudged Tooth. She was – how should I put it – she wasn't scared. I mean, she was horribly nervous about the Games like I was, but she was never one to let fear petrify her. You know what I mean?"

"Yes." She did. Pabbie had spoken to her once about, a day before the interviews. How strange that those days were so far away now.

His pallor had returned, but not from illness. "In all the dark thoughts that I tortured myself with, I always thought that Tooth would die screaming and scared. And hating me for not coming for her. But instead,-" his voice was a mixture of fondness and admiration, "-she went down like a warrior, like a _guardian_. I was never meant to be her protector, because she was a protector herself."

There was no amusement in his next chuckle. Instead, Elsa heard relief and release, as if someone had just flung open all the windows in a really stuffy room.

"So,-" her tone carried a hint of jest, "-I'm guessing that because you think I'm scared – which I'm not, by the way - you've taken to the notion of being _my_ guardian instead?"

He shrugged, a sly visage appearing. "Maybe."

She gave a critical eye. "You're sick, and you still think you can protect me?"

"Hey, you can't even light a fire without me," he answered. He paused at that point. "Speaking of fire-"

He dug his hands into his hoodie pockets, before drawing out the metallic can she knew to be a blow torch – they had used it for the District 2 boy.

"I didn't tell you that I had it, because my mentor actually sent it to me to… kill you." Her brows rose startlingly high at the confession, but she still listened on. "Frankly, I don't think I can do it, now or later, which is why-" he held the metal can "-I want you to have it."

She blinked at him hard, still not wholly comprehending his motives. What would his mentor to say of this?

"And… in case I die by my stupid infection, you can still cook on your own."

That made her chortle, so she took it. "You know,-" twisting the can in her hands, she remarked with a smug face "-now that I can make fire by myself, I don't actually need you anymore."

"Oh, you do, actually," Jack was replied with an equally amused tone. "Who else would tell you stupid jokes and random quips about your ice?"

She was on the verge of answering, when both of them heard an utterance of surprise ring in the air. Both of them sat absolutely still, listening. There was the sound of scratching against the ice, followed by muttered swearing.

Jack only needed to jerk his head in that direction for her to know that he wanted them to investigate it. Both of them rose, noiselessly making their way towards the source of the sound. He went ahead first – she had assumed before that it was because he liked taking the lead, but now she understood it was a precaution; that if the attacker overpowered him, she could at least make a run for it. It seemed that he had been always looking out for her, whether she knew it or not.

But Elsa was proud, and she wouldn't merely take such gifts granted. She would pay the boy back for every ounce of care that he had heaped on her by protecting him in whatever way she could. She would help him get the cure he needed so much at the Horn tomorrow, or die trying. Perhaps as a sign of promise, she had managed to call up an ice barrier to catch the arrow that suddenly flew out of the darkness towards his face, giving him room to charge forward and apprehend the assailant swiftly.

"_Hackit Bassa!" _was the cry that pierced the night.

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

Only two faces were flashed across the sky that night. When the Capitol's Crest vanished, all that lit their camp was the flickering flame sitting in between them. If it wasn't for Shen's apparent pyrotechnic skills, they wouldn't have had a fire at all. His District mate was also a resourceful one, having gathered some herbs and plants in the woods to cook them a meal. Though it was fragrant and tasty, there was no denying that any of them were used to eating such simple foods in such small portions.

"Soup, dear?"

When Astrid raised her head up, a trickle of blood ran down along her brow and down her cheek.

"Don't move." Before she could object, she felt the District 1 girl dab something against the gnash above her brow. Astrid didn't lie. She found Gothel's patronizing manner irritating, and her constant complaints about how the Games were ruining her face a bore. But the fact remained that the tall girl with luxurious black curls was the only reason Dagur's steel had only slashed Astrid's forehead, and not her ribs.

"Why?" she asked the girl nursing her wound.

Gothel didn't reply at once, being busy wiping off the remnants of the red from the younger girl's cheek. Usually Astrid would have been mortified enough to bat her hand away, but the blonde knew better than to offend the person who had saved her.

Finally, Gothel answered, "Honestly, dearie? Because I'd hate to be left alone with-" she cast a disdainful look at the two boys. The scarred boy was leaving the camp at that moment, talking ecstatically to himself in colorful tones. The white-haired boy merely rolled his eyes at the scene, before returning to slap a whetstone against his curved blade.

Astrid supposed there had to be an ulterior method, but nonetheless she was grateful. "Thank you, anyway."

"You slip-up again, however," the other girl warned, now handing her the canteen of soup. "I'll be the one cutting you down. Understood?"

Astrid's forehead creased, allowing a burn to stab her above the brow. Appearance-wise, Gothel was a ditsy featherhead, but even by the blonde's own outer-worldly standards, the elder girl measured up quite well. She wasn't the fastest runner, nor the quickest in reaction time, but she was strong and cunning. And disquietingly maternalistic. Astrid couldn't quite understand how Gothel's mind worked, and that would make her a formidable enemy when the time came.

And increasing, Astrid felt that time was soon.

Her face betrayed none of her thoughts. "Of course."

Gothel had left her then to return to stir the soup pot over the fire, and it was then that the boy with white and red hair rose from his seat and approached her. He didn't beat around the bush. "Do you still have the controller for the minefield?"

She was bemused. "What for?"

It wasn't just useless; it was a physical reminder of her mess-ups.

That was a quite foreign word to label her with. She was the perfect one, and Hiccup was supposed to be the mess. The Games had a curious way of turning the tables.

Shen simply narrowed his eyes at her, pursing his lips together.

She dug into her pockets, fishing out the requested device. "Here."

The elder boy took the device, hardly giving it a glance before sliding it into his own pocket.

She reclined against the birch behind her, running her fingers along the flat of her axe, her eyes downcast. She was quiet but her mind was on fire.

She had never imagined that such thoughts would occur to her, but apparently her presence was increasingly unwelcome in the Pack. The announcer had claimed the feast would offer something that could save one's

life or better secure one's victory. For her, that 'something' would be a distraction. That's all she needed. A distraction.

Dagur reappeared from the forest-greens then, grinning madly from ear to ear. "Hey, guys! Look at what I found!"

Doing just that proved to her that getting away from the Team soon was more imperative than ever.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Merida was really out of it. Her stealth, her speed, her skill all seemed to have abandoned her.

The boy that defeated her was the pretty one from District 10. He was tall, but not particularly muscular. He did however was very skilled with that hooked staff of his, and he had a fierce grip, as evident from the bruise that she now had on her bare shoulder.

He pushed her firmly, though not necessarily unkindly, down on a log, and there she found herself under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes.

One of them asked, "Who are you?"

Ah, she didn't have a coat – it had been coverted into her arm cast somedays ago, and discarded later on. Hence, they couldn't see tell what her district was. Well, let them wonder.

She decided to assess her captors first. Besides the pretty boy, there had also been the platinum blonde there at her time of capture. The image was etched in her head; the tall, lovely girl from District 12 had simply raised her hand and an ice formation had emerged from the ground. That explained where all the ice around the river had suddenly appeared from. And that of the ice walls during the Bloodbath. And the strange glowing blue crystal that was melting in her trousers pocket.

"C'mon, who are you?"

Her blue eyes flitted to the other blonde. It was hard to not recognize the District 8 girl, since her long blonde plait was much too memorable. The District 10 boy had handed her the bow and quiver he had confiscated from Merida. The last member of the team was the surprise.

"You're a career," the redhead remarked, her eyes fixed on the number on his coat.

He seemed like he was going to retort, but the District 10 boy interrupted, furrowing his brows at her, "Just answer the question, please."

"She's from a District 5, the one who got the score of eleven," the long-haired girl answered first. Merida noted that she had two loops of hair coiled around her arms, like ropes.

"Serious? Wow." The skinny fishbone was looking at her with what was almost akin to awe.

As flattering as it was, it also made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. "Enough of the chatter," she said shortly, her gaze shifting suspiciously one member of the strange little team to another. "What will you do with me?"

The four teens gave each other quizzical looks, before the District 10 boy murmured something to the others. He then gave the District 12 girl – the ice mutant – a nod. The blonde with the French braid hesitated, before sucking in a breath, then raising a hand at Merida. At once, the weaponless archer found her feet snagged in a case of ice that had emerged from the ground. Merida bent over, tugging at them as hard as she could, before she found similar ice bonds cuffing her wrists to her ankles. "Hey!"

"Just give us a moment." The girl with the sweeping long braid told her. One by one, the members of the curious alliance had moved themselves to another corner of their camp, out of the redhead's earshot.

Merida snorted in annoyance, berating herself for her own careless. If only she had been more careful, she wouldn't be subject to this kind of problem.

The blonde had laid her bow and quiver across the fire pit, way out of her reach, though certainly in her sight. After the announcement had been made, the redhead had re-counted her arrows, and found that she could literally count them off her hand. She had then journeyed away from the little cave towards the Cornucopia, hoping to be sitting right at its edge before dawn came.

Of course, that wasn't happening anymore. In matter of fact, she would be lucky if she ever got to see the ugly metal horn ever again.

The four then returned after their little discussion. The District 10 boy, who seemed like the leader of the little troupe, said, "We're willing to spare you. For now."

"Is that so?" she didn't hide the cynicism in her tone – being tforcibly bent forward was starting to strain her back in a really, really bad way."

"We would like to have you work with us against the Careers," the boy went on to explain. Merida noted that the ice girl had position herself next the boy, glaring down at their ice-trapped prisoner. She wondered what the District 12 boy would have thought of the behavior – _weren't they supposed to be a sweethearts or something?_ "Your skills may help us put up a fight."

An alliance with this motley crew? Merida swallowed back a disdainful snigger. Her ally, her friend, had just passed that morning, and these idiots thought that they were even worthy to work with her. Everything in her wanted to spit his face and reject the request as haughtily as possible. Everything except logic.

Without Vanellope, she was a one-woman show, and that put her in an extremely vulnerable position. Assuming that the Careers hadn't fallen out with each other after she had blown up their supplies, she would then be facing not one, but two big teams of tributes if she wanted to go it alone. And considering that they had her locked in ice, she honestly hadn't much of a choice. Still, that didn't meant that she wouldn't try getting something out of it.

"I'll accept it on one condition."

The tall boy with the staff raised a brow, but the ice girl said stonily, "Name it."

"I get the District 2 girl. She's the blonde with axe."

At the corner of eye, she noted that the District 2 boy had flinched.

The ice witch however didn't so much as blink. "Done."

The pact now made, the District 10 boy helped to hack her appendages from the ice with a knife that the District 8 girl and provided. However, he withheld the return of her bow and quiver.

"Elsa will keep the bow, and Rapunzel the quiver," he told her when she had demanded for them back. "Insurance."

Merida scowled, rubbing her freed hands and legs. When she shot back onto her feet, she found her toppling forward, just saved from face-planting herself on the maple-strewn ground by the brunette boy at her side.

"Careful there," he said, sounding almost concerned, while he helped her steady herself. "Hiccup almost killed himself after he got up the first time."

The intensity of her scowl only deepened while he aided her in climbing out of the ice block. "Hiccup?"

"The other guy." He nodded towards the skinny District 2 boy, who was now speaking to the golden-haired girl from 8. His eyes were fixed on his ally, but Merida detected one or two quick glances he had shot at her occasionally.

"Jack." She found a palm shoved in her face. She stared critically at the gloved hand, then at the boy who had offered it. Without meaning to, her gaze flickered to the dark brown patch he had on shoulder, her own thoughts going back to her partially-sprained left arm that hopefully had healed, despite the lack of care.

Noticing she didn't respond, the boy elaborated casually, "I don't believe in just calling people by their Districts."

Still uncertain, she took the hand. "Merida."

After a firm shake, she released it as if it was a snake. "So, Jack," she forced herself to sound at least courteous, even smiling a little to hide her uneasiness, "I assume we have some sort of plan?"

* * *

He awoke when a pat on his shoulder set his wound off, and he let out a pained hiss.

"Sorry, forgot about the injury." The apology was sincere, the voice sounding as if its own too was wincing.

Jack rubbed his eyes, before allowing his hand to clutch the opposite lower arm, taking in deep breaths in hope to chase the agony away. As his vision cleared, he found that the one who woke him was Hiccup.

"And I thought you guys were letting me off night-watch," the taller boy grumbled, remembering to do it softly to avoid awakening the other slumbering members of their party.

"We are. It's not about that." The District 2 boy then dropped a slip of paper into his chest. "This came for you while you were sleeping."

Jack drowsily picked the slip of paper, ready to unfold it when his eyes sudden widened in alarm. "Wait. Did you read it?"

The boy didn't deny it, nor did he look overtly concerned that he had been caught. "I had a fairly good guess what's in it already."

Jack hardened his jaw, but he still read the paper first. When he was done, he then faced the other boy again. "How did you know?"

"Rapunzel got the same thing earlier on," the District 2 boy hastily explained. He scanned their camp quickly, then beckoned the other boy. "C'mon, she 'swaiting for us."

After Jack managed to get to his feet, Hiccup dragged his off to the forest, away from the campsite where only two out of three girls slept beside the fire. Some stumbling and complaints later, they came to a small clearing where Rapunzel was.

She rose from her seat – a small rock ledge – to greet them. She turned to Hiccup first. "Are the others asleep still?"

"Like logs - even the archer girl," Hiccup informed her, while both boys sat themselves nearby. "She's pretty exhausted."

"It's the crying," the words slipped from Jack's mouth before he could stop himself, earning bemused expressions from the other two. He continued in order to explaining the statement, "Her eyes had traces of red, or…did you guys not notice?"

The russet-haired boy looked at his blonde companion, and both of them slowly shook their heads. Jack just shrugged in response. Perhaps it was some older-brother thing that let him see it; he always knew when Emma had been crying.

_Emma…his mother…his home... _The wave of longing was overwhelming. Staying in the Arena for so long made him forget that he had a life before, a life outside this. Where he would be taking Emma ice-skating and telling her stories, then their mother would be telling them off for not finishing homework.

Not plotting how to betray their two other allies.

"The Careers would want to take them out first. They've got unresolved issues with Elsa, so one or two of them are bound to attack her," Hiccup was saying. He was the resident Career-expert, so he became the default strategist on the team – beside Rapunzel constantly singing his praises, that is. He had worked out the entire battle plan. It was an imperfect plan, but the best they could do with limited knowledge. He had planned for the five of them, so it made sense he should plan also for the _three _of them. "The archer girl-"

"Merida." Jack corrected.

"Merida. She's already going to after…Astrid" Hiccup swallowed, his shoulders suddenly dropping. His voice was slightly shaky. "There might still leave about one Career, assuming that other … variables don't change the game course." Besides themselves, Hiro and the Careers, there were still other three other tributes. Hopefully, they could avoid encounters with them. "If we navigate carefully around any skirmishes, we should be able to meet up with Hiro and get out."

He then went very quiet, much like how Jack had been for some time.

Rapuznel then laid a hand over Hiccup's own, saying with gentle regret, "We don't have a choice."

A shadow seemed to fall over the District 2 boy's face. "I know."

Something in Jack stirred. It wasn't that he was feeling unwell again – not that he wasn't feeling unwell either. But this sort of queasiness didn't stem from his fevers or his infection. He knew exactly how that felt, after all. It was his conscience, and perhaps the better half of his soul.

"We do have a choice," his voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but both other tributes had turned to listen anyway. "We can choose _not_ to do this."

"Our mentors went through some effort to get us together." Jack noticed that she had a special sort of light in her eye when she said 'mentors'. "They must think that the alliance would be beneficial – much more than the present one, at least."

"Yeah, but…"

By right, he should trust Bunnymund. Trust that his mentor, being able to see the full going-ons in the a Games, knew the best step forward. But then Jack couldn't help noting the contradictions between the two most recent messages his mentor. The message that had come with his wooden staff had been hastily read and discarded, because he and Elsa had been occupied in a wolf-fight then, but the words imprinted in his brain.

'_PROTECT THE GIRL.'_

Bunnymund obviously had a change heart, but Jack had yet to do the same. That very evening he had confessed, and almost promised, to protect the blonde with all that he had.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, Jack." Hiccup's sincerity was unmissable, nor was his reluctance. "But I think this is honestly the best chance we can get home." He leaned forward towards the District 10 boy, asking in all seriousness, "Are you in or not?"

Pit the Careers against the most powerful players in the Arena, and hope that they eliminate each other? It was a smart plan. And of home? There was deep ache within him that wanted to see his sister's smile again.

It wasn't just that. He wanted to see Emma grow tall enough to stand at the sink without a stool. He wanted to be there when she finished her first trial at shepherding. He wanted to be there when she started noticing boys, and boys started noticing her – to drive away unwanted affections if nothing else. He wanted to be there when she discovered the traumas of algebra and literature. He wanted to fight with her for room space, and quarrel with her stupid nothing. He wanted to pray with her every single year before the reapings, and be there to celebrate after the seventh reaping was over and done. He wanted to be there for every moment in her life; to guide her, to protect her.

And he couldn't do that if he didn't go home.

'_Come, Jack, choose!"_ His own mind screamed at him. "_Which girl?"_

The answer was so glaringly obvious that he wondered why he had hesitated in the first place.

"I'm in."

* * *

**S/N: **

**I bet many thought that the 'young love' announcement would be here. Well, it's not. **

**Things for the Band gang are heating up, and everything is going down. Yes!**

**Up Next: You are cordially invited to THE FEAST, split into 3 to 4 parts/chapters just to fit all its events. There will be battle, betrayal and death. If you ask me, this may be the biggest thing that happens in the entire story.**

* * *

**A/N: Tired! Tired! Sorry for Typos! I only managed to read over once.**

**Mailbox:**

**Breathes-the-Stars: Glad you are enjoying it. Yes! You have wept! I have succeeded!**

**Jessie000003: Wow, you stuck to this so long? (P.S. Thanks for calling this a 'book' instead of 'story' – makes me feel semi-published.) **

**WarriorQueen 14: Sorry, your guess on the announcement was wrong (but that's cause I tricked you.) Pitch has something else in store for our 'young love' couple. I love Van more than Rue, because I'm a bigger Disney fan, but also cause Van is way more interesting and sarcastic. And guess what? Team JE and Arthouse and Merida are Teaming Up! This is the Big Five people! (Before everything starts fracturing.) I like long reviews, but honestly, any review brings cheer.**

**Waveringshadow: I love the confrontation of Rap and Elsa myself. Good insights into the Frozen Heart song, btw. Very good insights… **

**Obsidian Buterfly: I hope this chapter shows why Bunny hasn't helped Jack for a while, so he's not a jerk. Jack got a band back in Chapter 15 Bloodbath, when he spared Hiro's life. I'm sorry, but POVs for Hiccup and Merida's family won't be appearing till the end of the story (because adding such parts don't really have a story function, and because I write a lot in one chappies alrd. Sorry!) (As for who the lucky five are and who's gonna die shall remain a mystery. But I warn you – I cheat.)**

**Manyotpsforlife: Yes! Someone else cried! Yes!...um, Kleenex?**

**that one evil girl: You must have been a tinge sleepy. No, Elsa is dead. Yet.**

**Maggietheawesome: Kill Elsa? Wait I said that? Oops…ah, c'est la vie. I think Hiro could be pretty heroic, like Tadashi. Jack won't be getting powers for a long, long time. I'm really sorry, but the story won't allow it till later…yep. There are some slight Jelsa-ish stuff here, so I hope you enjoy…whatever's there.**

**Lostblueheart 16: The chapter cheered you up after watching a depressing video + chapter was pretty depressing = the depressing video must have been really, really depressing. Glad you like the chappie, anyhow. Now that Feast is here, I can assure you Ralph would at least make a cameo.**

**Bye. Hopefully next week if I don't die first. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	35. Chapter 33: The Big Five

The Guardians Games: The Odds Of Five

Chapter 33: The Feast Part 1: The Big Five

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Her fingers curled protectively – possessively – over the bow handle, before she demanded, "The arrows?"

"Once we've reached the Horn." The thinning of her lips didn't scare him as he had hoped it would. Rather, it seemed to amuse him. "Come, come. Don't be so sad. We'll give you your toys back if you're you good girl," he teased.

"I didn't kill you in your sleep, did I?" Merida retorted frostily, which only served to tickle him further. If it wasn't for the creepy mutant watching over Jack like a hawk, the redhead would have pommeled the grin off the boy's face.

"Guys, stop fooling about. We've got to go." The fishbone, Hiccup, called out to them. Besides his ragged attire, he didn't have much. The only weapon he had was a dagger, given to him by the long-haired girl who was called Rapunzel. She wasn't carrying much herself, only a satchel strapped across her shoulders, and a quiver that didn't belong to her. She approached the redhead and the brunette boy, turning to address the former.

"You'll need something to defend yourself at close range," she said in a friendly manner. In her palm, Merida noticed she held a dagger by its blade, before stretching her arm out to the other girl. It was then that the redhead noticed the metallic shine that seemed to originate from under Rapunzel's coat sleeve.

When the dagger changed hands, Merida got a closer look at the gleam. It seemed that the blonde owned a rather plain, but familiar-looking armband. Inquiring further about it was on the tip of Merida's tongue, but yet something else held her back. So all she did was thank the girl, then cut a hole in her shirt to hold her dagger in.

"Fashion statement?" Jack commented mildly.

She gave him a withering look, till something else on him caught her eye.

He was standing perfectly upright before her, armed with nothing but his staff, which he held out horizontal to his own body. With his arms bent like that, the sleeve of left coat jacket had fallen back, revealing - strangely again - another shimmery metal band.

This time she couldn't stop herself. "Where did you get that?"

He was puzzled. "Get what?"

Then it hit her. Both bracelets on the blonde and brunette…she had seen the first on the hovercraft, on the way to the Arena.

_"Nice armband."_

_"Thanks. It's my brother's."_

She was so caught up in the memory that it took a sharp shaking to jolt her back to reality.

"Hey, Merida. You okay?"

She blinked, her eyes opening wide as she stared into the dark brown ones of the District 10 boy. She pulled her shoulders out of his grip, unable to suppress the tingling sensation racing across her nerves.

"I'm fine," her voice sounded so soft and hollow, as if she was just talking to herself, "just fine."

"Ready to move, guys?" Hiccup called out to them. Over his forehead, he donned a pair of dark glasses. From what she had overheard, it was apparently night-vision equipped, so that the District 2 boy could lead them to the Cornucopia in the darkness without the use of flame. With his hand lifted up, resting on the rim of his glasses, Merida spotted the familiar glint near the edge of his sleeve. The wave of uneasiness swept over her, as a multitude of questions filled her mind.

There was a violent hiss when Elsa replaced the fire pit with a heap of snow. It was still a good two hours before dawn came, so accordingly, everything around them turned dark.

Well, except for a dim blue glow that seemed to emerge from Merida's pant pocket.

"You got a flashlight there?" Jack asked her, considering the light with much surprise. The others made noises expressing similar sentiments.

Slipping her hand into that pocket, the redhead found the little culprit. It was much reduced in size by now, having mostly melted itself, but the bluish glow was obvious enough at pitch black.

Something in Merida's head clicked. Turning towards the girl with the French braid, she held out the blue item. "I think this is yours."

There were murmurs of surprise from the entire team, including the spoken girl. Nevertheless, Elsa cautiously reached out an arm and snatched the object, burying its light in her hand. Her words were hasty, almost nervous. "Thank you."

"Well," the District 2 boy took a brisk tone, tainted only by a slight uncertainty, "now can we go?"

"Lead the way, Hiccup," Jack answered after a short silence.

The dread was so thick that one could walk on it. Merida could tell by the trembling form of Rapunzel, the grim quiet from the chatty Jack, the stumbling steps of Hiccup, and a chilly wind that must have been from Elsa. The company was fearful, and their worries only heightened with each foot forward.

In her heart, she too was troubled. But it wasn't the Feast that she was worried about. Oh, no, it was the mystery of the bands. When the ice mutant had snatched back the strange blue crystal, Merida had managed to catch a glimpse of her left arm when the sleeve fell back for only a millisecond, and there was no armband.

This conundrum continued to confound Merida for the next hour or so, as the team of five headed towards what were surely the gates of hell.

* * *

**Cornucopia**

It was snowing all around the silver horn, as it had been so many days ago since the Games had begun. It wasn't supposed to be snowing, but since these grounds had been designed simply to maintain the weather that it was given, snow was all it did. Twelve stately stones still lined around along the circumference of the field, every three marking the entrance to one of the four quarters.

Before the Autumn Quarter stood three great monoliths and behind these blocks sat five teenagers. In the central block, two boys crouched over the red leaves mixed with white ice. Behind the stone to their left hid the ice mutant, and the stone on their left hid the redheaded archer, bearing her arrows once more, and a blonde with two long coils of hair hooked around her arms.

The plan is all etched in their minds, hammered in by the stutteringly eloquent District 2 boy, who now reclined his back against the block of stone and murmured prayers to names he knew and gods he didn't. The other boy was leaning on his side, clutching the crooked rod that his life depended upon, carrying an air of severity. His fever had largely been sated by the 'Night Fury saliva', but he still had an ache on his shoulder and perhaps some discomfort in his stomach. Elsa had spoken to him about that at length before they had departed for the Horn, so he had to assure her over and over that his presence was necessary. Besides, he couldn't sit out of this – he was probably the best hand-to-hand combatant on the team.

Of course, the real reason had to do with the silver cuff on his wrist, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

Jack peered over Hiccup's form to glance at two of his newer allies. In the shadows, he could make out Rapunzel hugging her knees, inhaling and exhaling deeply. The redhead on her right had adopted a much calmer manner, laying her bow over her crossed legs.

He didn't need to look to know what Elsa was doing. He could hear the mutterings –_ "Don't feel. Don't feel."_

He turned his gaze back to the metallic horn, which turned from black to shimmering silver as the earliest signs of morning light played on its surface. He heard Hiccup fall silent, and knew he too was watching the Cornucopia now. All of them were pretty much holding their breaths, waiting for the trigger.

That came in the form of tremors below their feet and bottoms. For a second, Jack feared it might be an earthquake – some spiteful trick by the Gamemakers – but then he saw the snow-ridden ground at the mouth of the horn split apart. There was a whirring sound as a metal table from rose up from below, then a click when the ground-shifting finally ceased. The table was a long rectangular one that stretched across the entire entrance of the Horn. Sitting neatly on top of it was a single row of bags, ten in total and each labelled by their district, aligned in ascending numbers.

_Wait._

A surge of incredulity shot up his system.

There were exactly ten bags, and only _one _for each District, even for Districts with _two_ remaining members.

He pulled his gaze from the Cornucopia grounds for a second, glancing at the boy in his company. Hiccup's jaw had slackened, disbelief written all over his face. The expression on Elsa's face was much the same.

"This changes everything," the gangly boy finally broke the lull, anxiety plain in his emerald eyes.

"No, it doesn't," Jack contradicted firmly, stabbing his staff into the ground for emphasis. "We stick to the-"

He was cut off by the sound of feet on snow.

Fixing his eyes once again on the Horn told Jack the source. From one of the stones in front of the Summer Quarter, a lean redheaded boy emerged. He sped immediately to one of the tables, scooping up the backpack labelled '12', dashing across the snowdrift and heading into the Winter Quarter.

"Smart," Hiccup remarked ruefully under his breath. Jack was pretty chagrined himself. It was a brilliant strategy - moving first while everyone was recovering from shock. He left behind the other bags on purpose too. No one else would dare pursue him whilst their own pack was so vulnerable to snatching.

Swinging himself about, Jack cast a glance in Elsa's direction, expecting for her countenance to bear either distress or frustration now that her pack was taken. In its place, however, all he saw was astonishment, and even relief. Of course, they hadn't seen the District 12 boy since the battle on the mountain, and he knew that Elsa had been somewhat concerned about him. It was just that he never expected that much concern.

He had watched the interviews. He knew the whole 'star-crossed lovers' story, but Elsa had never spoken much about it, so he had assumed it was a one-sided affair for most part. Apparently, he was mistaken. He felt strange pang of jealousy somewhere behind the anxiety and adrenaline.

He heard Hiccup swear harshly, so he asked, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" The boy looked a bit wild-eyed, his words tumbling out fast. "We hesitated. There will definitely be a clash now." In seconds, he was on his feet, giving a sharp command, "Move!"

With those words, he disappeared behind the boulder.

"What?" Jack still dazed by the suddenness of Hiccup's movements, just barely scrambling to his feet when Rapunzel had too launched herself into the danger zone.

"Go, you idiot!" The curly-headed District 5 girl hissed at him. She rolled herself to her knees, fitting an arrow on her bow, peering cautiously beyond the stone block.

"Take care." He didn't need to turn to know who said it; he had become quite accustomed to her voice. The message sent a burning fire in him – a surge of courage and boldness, only to be soured when he recalled the promise he would soon have to break.

"You too." He meant it with all his being. She needed all the good luck that he could wish onto her, since he would no longer be there to provide it in person.

A hardened visage formed on his usually handsome face, as he dashed forward onto the snow, his crooked staff raised before him.

* * *

"There he is! Go!"

The scarred boy from District 4 boy whisked off just as the words left her lips, a maniacal grin formed on his lips as he charged forward with crossbow, towards the scrawny boy from the Peacekeeping district.

Not far behind, Gothel spotted the District 8 girl heading towards the feast table, shooting worried glances around her.

"I'll go after her," Shen volunteered, ready to plunge himself forward, but his District-mate yanked him back sharply behind the stone.

"Stick to the plan, Shen," she ordered of him, ignoring his dark expressions. "You're raiding tables with -" her gaze fell on the newest member of the Career Pack, "what's your name again? Oh, well, let's just call you 'Shorty'." She smoothly blotted out indignant protests from the District 6 boy. Flicking her hand in the direction of the Cornucopia grounds, she said, "Now, Shen, Shorty, shoo."

The two boys, though highly offended, did as she instructed.

If she had ever thought that Shen or Dagur was unsightly, the District 6 boy was uglier still. His skin was pale gray, his eyes freakishly yellow and his head was disproportionately large. He also had a broken nose and some injured ribs, the way he had been when Dagur had dragged back to their camp the previous night. The scarred boy had found him loitering in the Spring Quarter, giggling and wheezing while tending to him himself. Dagur had spared him, because apparently they found so much in common with each other – 'not surprising, the load of mad hatters,' she had thought.

The Pack, on whole, had only allowed this – what was the word? – _aberration_ on their team because of the information that he had provided. He had been the one who told them of the alliance formed between the ice mutant, the pretty boy, the failed career and … Rapunzel.

The blonde in question had let out terrified shriek when Shen let fly an array of projectiles her way. She was a fast runner, so by the time the white-haired boy had cast out another wave of shuriken, she had already dived behind the table, out of range.

Around the same time, Dagur closed in on the lanky kid from Astrid's District – what's his name? Ah, yes, Hiccup. For all his rumored incompetency though, the smaller boy had managed to dodge most of the mighty blows by the Career's heavy sword.

Several seconds later, the 'ladies' man' from District 10, had rushed forward, brandishing a rod with a hook at its end. He successfully diverted the attentions of Dagur from Hiccup after he slammed the butt of the pole against the District 4 boy's chest, causing his face to scrunch up in pain. Just as the skinny District 2 kid scuttled away, Dagur let out a guttural, almost animalistic cry when his sword clashed against the wooden staff. For all the hard, furious strikes, the District 10 boy seemed to be gaining the upper hand, from his conscious effort to hit sensitive spots rather than at random.

"Seems that the deranged psycho would be in need assistance," Gothel commented, with a roll of her eyes. The last of her allies made no reply, but the elder girl supposed it was simply because she was wrought in all the anticipation.

She sent Astrid off first, before following behind herself. The blonde however headed to the stones in front of the Autumn Quarter, while Gothel made her way -towards the scarred and the pretty boy, who were still locked in fierce battle. The District 10 boy's back was facing her, so ever the grasp-er of passing opportunities, the black-haired girl whipped out a blade and tossed it in his direction.

If all went right, it would crash into his spinal cord, just below his neck, and he would have died when the nerves connecting his heart and his brain were cut loose. Of course, all never ever went right.

Instead, her blade was hit in mid-flight by an arrow that came zipping past.

When the second arrow came flying her way, she took a step back and stretched out her hand. Just as a gray blur passed her, she reached out and grabbed it. When she opened her palm, she found the wooden arrow resting in it.

She gazed at her opponents across the field, and a thin smile formed on her lips. Behind a barrier of ice stood the 'Ice Queen' herself, calling snow into the air, and ice from the ground. Beside her was a girl with a mane of scarlet. Her bow was in her hand and she had it aimed at the District 1 girl.

Gothel simply beamed at the eleven-scorer, before breaking the arrow between her index finger and her thumb. In the periphery of her vision, she spotted Astrid racing towards the ice barrier, avoiding the ice shields that the mutant kept drawing up from the ground. The archer, distracted, began to take her aim for the blonde instead.

She felt the distinct temptation to join the blonde Career, but she forced herself to prioritize. Kill the District 10 boy first, then have fun.

* * *

Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear her breathing. Her back was now pressed against the side of the table, her front facing the mouth of the Horn. In her mind, she was praying and praying that the shooter of the darts wouldn't pursue her here.

"Hey."

At once, Rapunzel swung up her arm, pointing the knife in the direction of the voice.

"Whoa! Whoa! Chill. It's me."

Relief washed all over her being when she found it was just the District 3 boy. He too was crouched behind the table, his labelled bag propped on his lap.

"Nice to see a friendly face here," he remarked wryly, unzipping his bag and sticking his hands into it.

"Yeah," gasped Rapunzel, dropping her arm, her breathing rate still fluctuating crazily. She almost had a heart attack when she saw the insane guy from District 4 tackled Hiccup, and almost flipped into a frenzy when she saw the darts flying in her face. Still guarded, she inquired between huffs, "How come - you're – here so -quick?"

" 'Was hiding in the Horn from the start," Hiro answered almost cockily. From the bag, he had removed a rectangular device that she guessed was some controller by the number of buttons on it. The next thing he took out was an object made up of a metallic chain, joined together by rounded balls that made up its body.

The question popped out at once. "Is that a robot?"

He nodded, almost gleefully. "I made this myself," he said, proudly gesturing towards it. Seeing her make a skeptical face at the innocuous device, especially at the yellow happy-face painted on its head, he defended it hastily, "It's more deadly than it looks."

"Okay." She didn't really want to argue about nitty-gritties, but she couldn't help wondering, - "why didn't you grab Hiccup's bag?"

"Hiccup?" The boy seemed to freeze at the name.

"His bag's right next to yours. You could've grabbed it for him, then he wouldn't need to risk crossing the Horn."

There was puzzlement written all over Hiro's face while he zipped his bag again. Rapunzel sighed. She supposed he had forgotten his own allies. "You gave three of us the bands, remember? Me, Jack and Hiccup."

* * *

Dagur was a hard fight, because the guy was a walking arsenal. He had knives, darts, maces - yes, in plural -, and his heavy saber. But fortunately, while skilled in using all of them, the boy wasn't very focused in battle and enjoyed mocking his foes too often. It wasn't long before Jack managed to find an opening, and smacked the boy at the side of his head. The District 4 boy's eyes rolled backwards, before he and his display of arms crashed onto the ground with in clatter.

Jack snorted wryly, unable to help feeling a bit smug. In that moment he had spent chuckling at Dagur's excellent showmanship and lack of swordsmanship, he could have the victim of an arduous chest puncture.

Lucky for him he had a guardian angel. Perhaps he must have gotten through to the redhead after all, considering she had decided not to let dagger hit its mark.

"Thank, Mer-" before he could complete his call, another blade flew past his face. "Whoa!"

The District 1 girl came darting around the ice wall, a terrifying glint shining in her grey eyes. In rapid succession, she hurled three daggers in his direction. Swallowing a gulp of air, he quickly spun his rod, managing to deflect each blade. His eyes scanned around him. He could run, but turning his back on her would give her another opening to cut him down. So he kept his feet planted, his gaze on her.

"Bravo." The District 1 girl made a sickeningly sweet smile, even adding a mocking clap. Standing well out of reach his staff, she circled him, a single dagger clasped in her hand. Jack didn't know why the Game commentators had called her beautiful. Sure, she had the shape, the curly hair, the height, but seriously? She had to have the most unsettling smile he had ever seen.

"Tell me, Jack. Were you born looking like that?"

He couldn't help feeling rather incredulous, his brows furrowing. "Born like what?"

"Handsome." She flashed her white teeth at him, tossing the dagger in her hand up, then catching it. Jack couldn't help staring at the glittering steel blade, reflecting the blue of the sky above with each flip it did.

"You're very lucky, you know," she said, her voice holding an odd tinge of envy.

"Let me guess. Something to do with me dying whilst I still look fabulous?" It was meant to be a snide joke, but somehow it came through clenched teeth.

She threw her head back and laughed, as if he had said something completely hilarious. "No," she said in between a dry snicker. Her voice dropped a few decibels, a secretive smile playing on her lips. "That there's someone who actually loves you."

He was taken aback. At those words, he suddenly fell into a throwback of images of his sister; smiling, pouting, crying, screaming, laughing. Everything that he did right now was more crucial than ever in deciding if he'd ever see her again.

In the following five seconds, he ended up cursing himself for getting caught up in his own thoughts, because Gothel had removed another dagger from her sash and attacked.

Jack had seen her in training. He had seen her fight Elsa, but he had never felt her. She wasn't graceful, or fast, or powerful, but there was something unnerving about fighting someone who didn't seem to breaking a sweat.

"Is that an animal bite?" she asked almost casually while pressing her two knives against his staff, her eyes flickering down to his wound. He tried conjuring something witty to say, but somehow his thoughts seemed to have abandoned him.

In a matter of fact, everything - his strength, his skill, his speed - just decided to abandon him in those five seconds. A familiar giddiness had decided to come mess with the insides of his skull at now, of all times. Without meaning too, his grip on his staff slipped slightly - and only slightly - which gave Gothel the leeway to slide one of her daggers over the rod and slash him over the wound.

Steel on his flesh was like a spark on a flare, and his shoulder seemed to explode with pain. He staggered back, shock overtaking pain for at that mere instance before she slashed the other blade at him. That blow he managed to step-side, and when she came down on him again, he had his staff raised once more. Pointing it at the girl, he felt the awful wave of nausea sweep over him.

_Not now. C'mon, not now._

She struck again, plunging the dagger towards him. By a stroke of luck, he caught that arm mid-air with his staff, swiveling his staff about until the blade left her hand. The knife flopped back, its edge hitting Gothel in her own face.

He was about to throw out a jeer or two, when another ache ran up his arm, causing one his arms to drop down just so he could press on the wound.

"I guess we're even there, then," he panted with a show of bravado, grinning.

The District 1 girl didn't reply with her usual derisive remarks. Instead, she slowly rubbed the blood across her cheek, peering at her crimson-stained hand with disgust, before her face turned into something almost crazed.

The next time she thrust the knives at him, she didn't hold back. Only a quick twist of his torso saved him from the pierces. In a surge of fury, she kicked him in the gut, then slashed him across the cheek. The staff still kept her at bay, but Jack was starting to feel the distinguishing inconvenience of having a blunted weapon.

He had been sure at first that they had been matched in stamina, but with the queasiness sweeping over him, and her heightened motivation, she was gaining the upper hand.

_Motivation_ – what was his motivation? Elsa was doing fine, wherever she was, though perhaps she could afford to lend him a hand. Rapunzel had managed to avoid crossing roads with anyone, or at least, as much as he could last remember.

The answer was, of course, really easy. The Career herself had been the one to remind him.

Emma.

The name alone sent him gave him new strength. Spinning the rod rapidly to block off a kick, he then delivered a thrust into the District 1 girl's kneecap, forcing her to lumber back, though still remaining on her feet. Defying the burning muscles in his forearms, he swung hard against her, hitting her in the shoulder, causing her to drop her blades. He then pounded the rod against the centre of her chest, once, twice. She cried out, falling to the ground, clutching her side. He wasn't sure, but he might have heard rib cracking earlier.

He could kill her now – there's little reason why he shouldn't. She was vicious, cruel, and she would have sliced him up without hesitation. But the reason why he hadn't rammed rod against her throat and squeeze the life out her was the same reason he had managed to defeat her in the first place.

Emma.

Maybe she could forgive and forget the deeds he had done here, if he could – it was a dream, perhaps – go home at all. But he couldn't – _wouldn't_ allow Emma's elder brother to turn into a monster. That was why he hadn't killed Hiro when he had the chance to. That was why he hadn't killed Hiccup in the river.

He heard a grunt coming from the District 4 boy – he was coming to. The District 1 girl would recover soon as well. It was time to make himself scarce.

Jack whipped around, turning his back on them now that he could deem it safe. Keeping his eyes forward, he began looking for his blonde ally. She was supposed to get his cure for him, after all.

* * *

"I gave Hiccup a band?" The District 3 boy murmured disbelievingly, as if the sound of it was really foreign to him.

"Yes," Rapunzel confirmed, a little impatient. Just then, they saw the boy in question hop over the table, seize his District's bag, and before the two approaching Careers catch him, dashed past the Horn. He didn't realize that there were two members of the 'band' band watching him.

"He's gonna circle the Horn and meet us on the other side," the blonde told the spiky-haired boy. "Later, when Jack gets out of the fight, he'll meet us there and we'll dash into the Summer Quarter. This book," she pulled out the Manual from her satchel, "will help us survive the beasts there. No one will follow us. Hopefully," she amended dryly.

Hiro wasn't listening. Instead, his eyes were glued to the leather-bound book presented to him, his jaws hanging open. Suddenly, he clamped his mouth shut, drawing it into a hard line while his gaze fell to the silver bracelet on his left wrist. Rapunzel cocked her head at him, worried. "Is something wrong?"

He drew himself away from her, his face contorted in a mixture of agitation and wrath. His voice was soft, but something in it sent shivers down her spine. "Did Hiccup give this to you?"

"Yes?" she answered, slightly disturbed by the black face.

He didn't speak again for a few moments, which only served build up Rapunzel's anxiety. She had seen Jack fight, but Night Fury saliva or not, he was still sick and battling too long was going to tire him out. Elsa and Merida weren't aware of the table-turning events, so they would defend him for now.

Finally, he said, "Let's do this instead; I'll deal with Hiccup. You help Jack and grab the bags. When he's out of the tangle, go to Summer. I'll meet you there."

Before she could protest, he had taken the book out of her hands, leaping to his feet and running to the other end of the Horn. Completely confounded, she rose to her feet, staring after him. 'Deal with him' – whatever could that mean?

Snapping out of her daze, she snatched the bags '8' and '10' off the table. The latter was really small, its strap just right for her arm, so she slid it on to her right wrist. It probably contained medicine for Jack. Honestly, though, as long as she had her hair, he wouldn't actually need it.

For the '8' bag, however, she unzipped it, rummaging through its contents hurriedly. It was unwise to loiter at the table, especially since she could see that the white-haired Career and another tribute now were standing around it. However, Shen seemed occupied in examining his own backpack, while his companion – whom she deduced must the tribute from District 6 – talking about something in panicked tones.

In her sack, she found a set of darts, a lighter and knives sharper than any she had. She slipped that into her pocket before continuing to browse through the items. There was this strange netting thingamabob – for what purpose, she couldn't fathom, - but when she saw the frying pan, she yanked it out immediately.

It was fortunate that it came into her hands when it did, because all of the sudden, the massive giant of boy appeared across the table.

She shrieked while her body fought between giving him a smack down or hiding back behind the table. The former instinct won, and she swung the cooking utensil at his face. Unfortunately, the boy whose coat bore an '11' was very much taller than her, and her reach only allowed her to smack against his bulging biceps.

The boy barely budged from the blow, simply glaring her down. She might as well have just blown him a kiss and hope he'd go timber on his own. When he let out a low growl and raising his huge fists, she screamed, darting out of the way in time before his rim of his hands hit the table, driving a crack into it.

Edging away from him as far as she could, she hopped over the table, landing swiftly on the side and started running. The District 11 boy however was quick to give pursuit, lifting his arms from the table and following behind her. Though Rapunzel was fleeter by foot, the humongous boy's huge legs allowed him to take much larger strides. His sound of every stomp practically ricocheted off the monoliths surrounding Cornucopia, and the blonde knew that surely he would catch up with her.

Then a white-blue blur whizzed past her and she heard a howl of anger from her pursuer. Whipping around, she was astonished to find that huge boy was now encased closely in ice. Turning her head, she turned to face the blonde ice mutant behind an erected ice barrier, just as tall as her torso. The redheaded archer was by her side, her bow loaded and ready for fire.

Rapunzel couldn't help the knot forming in her stomach. The two other girls were like faithful sentinels, guarding against them against their foes, unaware that they were being sacrificed as the bait.

In the corner of her vision, she could see Jack running towards her, having escaped from his own assailants - Gothel and Dagur. The two Career were picking themselves up from the ground now, and as Hiccup had predicted, they decided to forego chasing Jack in favor of advancing on the high-fliers.

"Got the bags?" was the first thing Jack panted out when he paused by her side. He was looking rather pale, and by how he was clung to the rod, she would say he was also tired. Wordlessly, she slipped the little '10' bag off her wrist, tossing it to the boy. He hurriedly hooked it on to his own wrist. "Okay. Let's go."

Grabbing his arm, Rapunzel and Jack made it for the dry, rocky quarter. She noted that he shot one last glance at the two girls, who now faced the Careers off on their own, then gave a heavy sigh.

* * *

"Something's wrong."

"We're in the Hunger Games. What isn't?" Elsa snapped in return. The blonde couldn't help feeling at least a little irritated with the redhead. Merida was not overtly friendly, and barely civil. Much like Jack did the first time she used her powers in front of him, the redhead had much to say about her lack of finesse and precision. One clear evidence was how the blonde District 2 girl, Astrid, was able to successfully manoeuvre her way around the icicles and ice walls she had formed. The girl was approaching slowly but surely towards them both.

Merida mumbled a curse, before notching an arrow and letting it loose. Astrid however ducked behind one of the newly-formed ice walls, before proceeding on her journey.

"_Jings Criven_\- you gotta make me some arrows," the District 5 girl told her pointedly.

Elsa huffed, her hands turning blue unconsciously at the same time. It wasn't that she didn't understand where the other girl was coming from, since she had only two arrows left, but – "My powers can't be used to deliver the killing blow. It's the rule."

"Good grief," Merida grumbled. "No arrows, and your stupid ice walls blocking my way-" Elsa's brow shot up, but the redhead didn't pay any mind "- honestly, I can't work like this."

Internally, Elsa admitted that she couldn't either. The brisk, cold archer was a fray on her nerves and a thorn on her side. On the outside, she said simply, "Then what?"

"I'm going to meet her halfway," Merida yanked out the last two arrows from her quiver, before throwing the bulky thing aside. "We'll fight it out like equals." The girl stuck out her chin at her, expecting a challenge or rebuke.

But Elsa found herself nodding, answering, "Go."

The redhead was surprised to say the least, but she had no hesitation in climbing over the central ice barrier that Elsa had built, landing on her feet with a 'thump'. Before she ran off, she told the blonde bluntly, "Don't trust your allies."

Elsa blinked, stunned. She was about probe the redhead for the reasons, but the girl had vanished by then.

At that moment, she caught sight of the big District 11 boy charging after Rapunzel, the poor girl screaming her head off. Quickly, she sent a calculated streak of ice towards the boy, striking the ground that was standing on, summoning pillars of ice to surround him, holding him in place.

Turning her head, she felt gladness in her heart when she saw that Jack had managed to flee from his assailants largely unscathed. He then met up with Rapunzel, who had his bag and – thank goodness – probably his cure. Hiccup was nowhere in sight at the moment.

However, the fallen Careers were now picking themselves up, and they were advancing towards their new target.

Herself.

In a fit of panic, she drew up a large ice wall in front of them, blocking them off. But she knew it was only temporary. They would soon be able to cut themselves out. Jumping over her own ice barrier as Merida had, she was about to launch herself towards her two allies as to join them, when she realized that they were running off. _Without her_.

Jack had even taken a glance at her, so he must have seen that she was ready to join them again, but he had only continued to dash towards the Summer Quarter.

The warning by the District 5 girl rang in her head, and for the first time, Elsa was starting to see that there was perhaps some truth in the girl's word. Still, ice mutant couldn't help but be skeptical. Why on Earth would Jack do that to her? He was her guardian, wasn't he? Or maybe he could just never kill her himself, so he'd rather let her die by the hands of others.

Somehow that thought didn't quite click either. If he wanted to kill her, he only needed to let the wolves take her back in the Winter Quarter.

Then, there was a high-pitched squeal. It seemed to originate from somewhere in near the table, in front of the Horn's mouth. Out of the blue, something bright and glowing propel up into the sky. When it was high enough, it burst into a ribbon of color, before fading with a fizzle. She stood there, amazed and perplexed. What could this possibly mean? Her worries about the fleeing duo were abandoned in favor of wondering what the Gamemakers could mean by allowing fireworks in the Games.

"Elsa, look out!"

Disoriented by the unanticipated firework display, the District 12 turned to seeking out the source of the voice, or what could it possibly be warning about.

Her search came to an abrupt halt, however, when she heard a new sound, cracking and crackling as it flew towards her, bursting into peal after peal of explosions.

* * *

He was well aware that Gothel had stuck him with the District 6 boy as a form of mockery – two deformed being working together. Personally, however, he felt nothing towards Turbo.

"Wha-What are you –_heh heh heh_ – are you d-doing?"

Well, besides some aversion to the incessant laughter and stuttering.

When they had arrived at the table, the smaller boy reached out to grab the '4' bag, then going further to snatch up his own sack, just as Gothel had instructed. Shen however didn't do the same with the '1' and '2' bags. Instead, he unzipped his District's backpack, then dumped its contents on the table.

There were a bunch of knives, some herbs and a small vial of suspicious-looking liquid – undoubtedly for Gothel. He swept those to the ground without a thought, before checking the other items. His eyes lit up when he found what seemed to a metallic glove, complete with talon-like finger extensions. Next to it was a can of familiar smelling black powder and a blocky paper package. He felt a small spark of elation in his soul as he held it up. This was his advantage, his key to victor-hood, and the glorious destiny that he deserved.

He heard the smaller boy mutter rather anxiously over his shoulder, "Teeheehee. Th-this isn't part of the plan."

"Part of Gothel's plan," the District 1 boy corrected brusquely, pulling the metallic glove over his right hand. He noticed that the sides of the middle finger and thumb were rough in texture, constructed to be a flint, literally, at the tips of his fingers. Snapping his clawed hand, a satisfied expression appeared on his face when a spark flickered to life between the metal. He told the other boy, "Frankly, I don't care what you do. Live. Die. Go according to Gothel's plan. I really couldn't be bothered."

Shen pocketed the cans, but the package he kept in his hands. Ripping off the paper and throwing it into Turbo's face, he assessed the items; a long aluminum tube to be the mortar, sparklers, artillery shells – their features scribbled on a side label, and even a rocket. While he began loading multiple shells into the metal tube, his hands stilled at the sight of the label. It was just the producer's logo – the golden shape of a peacock.

He should have expected that they would send it – they were the biggest firework producers in all of Panem.

_No,_ he was thinking of this wrong. He shook his head, resuming his furious loading of cans into the barrel, adding a sparkler or two for good measure. The Gamemakers would have simply bought the goods from his parents as a default. There was no meaning in it. He _refused_ for there to meaning in it.

Removing the rocket from the pile, he found its wick and snapped his metal claws at it. The wick caught fire at once, sizzling and sparking while beginning its sure ascent to the fuse. Unperturbed by the agitated flame, the white-haired boy threw the rocket to Turbo. "Hold this."

The boy did as he was told, though his reluctance to do so was plain enough. The fact that he still held on to the flaming device proved that indeed the tributes of other districts were sad, uneducated creatures."_Hahahahaha_\- er, what's this?"

No sooner did the word pass Turbo's lips did the charge explode. Fortunately for the District 6 boy, he had chosen to hold the firework at arm's length when the rocket shot into the sky with a sudden 'boom!' and it had only thrown the small boy off his feet. Turbo collapsed into a heap of snow, knocked unconscious when the back of his skull collided with table, his face still covered with soot, and his shirt with burns.

Shen gave a nonchalantly sniff at the scene as he twisted the wicks connected to the artillery shells together. He then lifted the cylindrical mortar onto his shoulder. Flicking the flint on his fingers again the entwined wicks, he shifted the firing hole till it faced his target, carefully leaning his head away from the barrel. It was plain defiance of your usual firework kit instructions, but when you've played with fire as much as Shen had, you didn't do instructions.

There was a definite 'bang!' when the flame hit the first fuse, and Shen felt a familiar jerk on his shoulder, so appropriately he adjusted himself a steadier stance. Explosions went off in rapid succession, each shaking the cylinder more fiercely than the last.

His target discovered the fireballs eventually, and she had raised her hands instinctively to protect herself. At the same time, a new fortress of ice seemed to rise too, engulfing her in its protective embrace.

Shen couldn't help a cruel chuckle. This was almost too easy.

Estimating that the mortar was going to run out of ammo soon, he threw the cylinder down to the snow. Around the same time, his fire projectiles hit the walls of ice. The saltpeter in the shells then heated up, setting off the burst charges.

It was a spectacular sight; the brilliant colours of green, red, blue and white gleaming against the crystals, as the fire bit into the frozen walls. The uneven heating combined with the impact of the shells smashed the ice boulders, splintering them into messy fragments while cataclysmic crackles and booms echoing through the field. If there were screams – from the girl herself, or any spectators – no one could hear it against the raining of shards.

After the last shell went off, the mortar caught fire like he had expected. He could have kicked some snow over it to extinguish it, but there wasn't any reason why he should. He liked fire.

He relished the horrified faces all over the Arena. The ice mutant's allies were certainly rattled, and even his own allies were aghast. Gothel was completely stricken, but nothing he hadn't anticipated. It brought up bad memories, he supposed. Well, she should have expected that when he told her take out the ice mutant.

Striding forward with an unfettered sensation of exultation, Shen removed his long, curved sword from his side. Crushing the pieces of ice below his feet, he made his way to the heart of the debris, a crooked half-smile playing on his lips.

* * *

This was a familiar situation.

How many days ago had it been when she had found herself flung backwards due to a massive explosion rumbling the earth and shaking the world? Two days? Three days? Her memories were a bit muddled at the moment, and the uncomfortable twang in her tailbone wasn't helping.

She pushed herself off the snow, brushing the bits of it out of her coral curls, gazing bleary-eyed at the burning ice maze that was supposed protect them.

Them. Her and the ice girl. Their jobs were to cover Jack, Rapunzel and … the Two boy while they went to get the bags. But the minute she had noticed that none of them retrieved her bag, she knew something was amiss. This was a break from the plan they had agreed on the previous night. That's when she had known something was wrong and was the real reason she had left the District 12 girl's side. That, and that she really wanted to go after…

_Oh, no._ She had been so caught up in watching the firework, warning Elsa and recovering that she had forgotten all about her target.

Forcing herself to sit upright, she caught sight of the District 2 girl sprinting towards her. The blonde had been much further from the epicenter and had been able to recover far more quickly.

Alarmed, Merida lifted her bow and began to load her-

_Wait._ Where were her arrows?

She groped in the snow, brushing off glassy fragments around her, searching for the two wooden projectiles which would be her only saving grace. Literally.

Fortune must have been smiling down on her, because she managed to dig out both arrows in the ice near her knees. Merida quickly fit it on the nock, drawing back the string and launching it.

She had aimed for the heart, but the District 2 girl was much too swift, so the arrow only struck her left arm. The blonde only paused for a second to yank the arrow out, before continuing to swing her axe with right arm, yelling as she pushed herself forward.

Feeling an awful constricting in her chest, Merida reloaded. The Career was doing a very good job in narrowing the distance between the two of them, and the minute she did that, well…

Forcing herself to exhaling slowly, Merida drew back the bow, taking aim at the other girl's chest. She thought of Wee Dingwall. She thought of home. She thought of her father, her brother, her mother. She thought of the throngs of harrowed faces who would spare her smile when she ran down through the factory line.

She then thought of Peacekeepers; the faceless masses of white that stalked her home day and night. She thought of the slashes and the cries she heard by the whipping post almost every week. She remembered the sneers and the jeers some of the guards would say to the workers, or the disparaging remarks to the women. Gunfire was more common than singing birds.

When she drew her bow this time, she drew on her hate too. Every bit of resentment she had ever had towards the white-coats was directed at the blonde girl bearing an axe.

It would have been a clean shot, if the Two girl didn't strike first. The axe can swerving towards her, and she almost managed to duck in time. Almost. Part of the blade managed to rip her on the side of her head just as the arrow flew out. The projectile zipped right past the girl's head, missing her completely.

Merida could feel warm liquid spilling down over her ear, dripping down her red curls. Her teeth were clenched together to prevent any show or sign of the pain she felt. Her fuzzy brain noted that since the Career had thrown her axe, she was unarmed. Well, the redhead didn't need to ask for permission.

Slinging her bow over her shoulder and removing the dagger she had tied to her coat, Merida advanced hard and fast towards her opponent, her blade pointing outwards. The Career was far swifter however. She had noticed the knife, so instead of going in, she swung out her right leg, kicking the knife out of Merida's hand. Before the archer had time to react, the girl used the same foot to slap her cheek, causing her to topple onto the snow. The laceration on her head was still smarting acutely, and when Merida tried getting up, the blonde kicked her in the stomach, causing her to growl in agony while wrapping her arms around her abdomen.

"And here I thought you'd actually be a worthy opponent." Squinting through her red bangs, Merida noted that the girl was standing over her, looking indeed very dissatisfied. She gave a short, humorless laugh, as she went to retrieve her axe. "I suppose I ask for too much."

Merida pulled together every strand of strength left in her being to force herself to sit up right, to take the chance to flee, but her body hurt too much. She couldn't get back up to her feet, and anyhow, it was too late. The girl now pointed the axe head in her face.

"You know what's the difference between you and me, Five?" The girl. There was hardly any anger in her eyes; no sadistic joy, nor gleeful lunacy. In a matter of fact, the Career seemed stiff, and maybe even a little worn-out, as if she was the one who had been beaten to the ground. "I've actually earned my spot here. I've worked tirelessly - every second both childhood and teen-hood - just to have this opportunity." She grimaced, before her facial features contorted into a visage of revulsion. "But you? You come striding like prissy little princess, thinking that the victor's crown will deliver to you on a silver platter. Well, guess what?"

The Career shoved the end of the axe haft against Merida's neck, forcing the redhead to bend backward, resting on her elbows quite helplessly. The blade was so close that Merida could watch as the mists of her own breaths formed a light sheen over the cool surface.

"The Games don't work that way. The Games don't care if you're born in the right family, or you have a father for a victor-" that made Merida glanced up with wide eyes, "The Games don't care if you happen to be extremely talented in a weapon that relies so heavily on its fragile ammo." The redhead found her wet finger wrapped on the lower curve of her bow. "It's about _hardwork_. _Preparation. Planning. Practice._ Did you do any of that, Five, before you stalked into the town square on reaping day?"

Merida gritted her teeth together, her umbrage only matched by her guilt. Should she have? Maybe she should have waited another year to perfect her aim, and train herself in running like the Careers did. She could have done more research in healing practices. But she knew why she didn't do that; she was far too impatient - impatient to escape the rigid life of that her mother had planned out for her.

She was anxious to give some kind of witty reply, to delay or distract the blonde. She couldn't hope to win, or even by survive, by strength now. She needed - she needed cunning, something that her mother taught her. Then, something that the blonde said struck her. It was a shot in dark, since she didn't know the blonde that well, but better than nothing.

"Well, at least, I have a father, don't I?" Merida retorted boldly, watching how proudly she had lifted her chin through the reflection on the steel blade. "And a mother. And brothers." She made a dark smirk. "Tell me, Two, is there anyone waiting for you to get out of the Games?"

The redhead couldn't have foretold the response. Any traces of lethargy or mild irritation disappeared from the blonde's mien, warping into pure wrath. She let out a growl and swung her axe back to give the final blow. Merida jumped through the window of chance at once, rolling herself out of the axe's way in time. Finding her fallen knife within arm's reach, she armed herself again, jumping back to her feet. When the blonde brought the axe down again, the redhead met its blade with her knife, using her bow to press against the axe handle at the same time.

"I think you underestimate how capable I really am." Merida found herself saying while she blocked and parried the hacking by the Career. "I killed one tribute with an arrow, and the other with a lightstick." She didn't need to mention the latter wasn't her intended target. The point was to sound intimidating, not lucky. "I've escaped from a bear-mutt twice my strength and size before killing it." She ducked when the girl made an overhead swing. When the Career thrusted the axe forward again, Merida brought her knife in front of her, pivoting herself on a heel before running forward, forcing the flabbergasted blonde to lurch back when steel hit steel. "Oh, did I mention I blew up your precious food pyramid?"

The blonde's nostrils were flaring, her sapphire eye's glittering dangerously. "It was _you_!"

With a taunting grin, Merida added, "Three arrows. That's all it took."

Screeching in madness, the Career bashed her axe against Merida's knife, each blow more savage than the last. The redhead found herself now in the disadvantage, since the other girl was much stronger. Her foothold was slipping in the snow, and the Career was breaking through her puny defense.

One of the hits was so powerful that it managed to push the bow and knife aside; such the axe could scrape her shoulder, opening a new gash. When the blonde swung her axe again, the redhead just barely managed to miss it, only for the blonde to knee her in the gut. The Career swept around her, grabbing the arm holding the knife and twisting it to her back. Merida cried out, letting the blade fall back to the snow. Merida tried to twist away, but the District 2 girl angled the axe's head over her chest, its tip hovering under her chin.

"Boast what you want, Five," the Career's snarling was muffled by the blood clogging her ear drum. "But know; victors are either born," she wound the arm up a little tighter, causing Merida shriek out in pain, "or bred. You-" she was practically spitting the words out, "don't even meet the criteria."

This was it. Merida tried wriggling out of the girl's hold, but she had her locked in place. The axe was digging in hard enough into her chin to prevent her from making an sudden moves. She had often heard about how people's lives flashed before their eyes when they approached death, but for her, it was a lot simpler. She only had one image in her mind. Her mother's green eyes boring into her, hollowed with grief and devastation.

Merida raised her head. So if she had to go down, she would go down dignified. There would be no tears, no screams. Closing her eyes, she braced herself as she felt the District 2 girl twist the haft, so that full sharpness of it could rest against her neck.

Just as the skin started to open, a blood-curdling scream shook the entire Arena.

* * *

The sight that greeted Hiccup after he had just circled the Horn had been a bewildering one. Apparently, someone decided to launch a firework in the sky for no apparent reason. Stopping at the side of the Horn to catch his breath, he watch the colors in the sky dissipate with crackle. He glanced around him, searching for his allies.

"Hello, Hiccup."

The minute he heard those words, he felt something metallic slither up his back. He groped at it, trying to brush it off, but whatever it was still succeeded in scaling his torso, and latched itself to his neck. Instinctively, he yanked against it, trying to rip it off, but the thing – a metal chain? – held fast. At that moment, he found a boy with spikey-black hair learning against the metal surface of the Horn, a blue-grey device in his hand.

"Hiro," he gasped, taking a step towards the boy, only halting when the metal chain squeezed against his throat, narrowing his airway suddenly. In between wheezes of pain and breathlessness, he stared desperately at the District 3 boy, his face bearing a million questions.

Hiro's face was unreadable. "I built this-" he gestured vaguely the device that clung to Hiccup's throat, "-when I was eight. My brother ran over the schematics with me."

The black-haired boy pushed a thumb against the toggle stick on what must be his controller. At the same time, Hiccup felt a chain tighten like a noose. His pants became heavier and his inhalations shorter. He pulled against the contraption, but his fingers barely pry its pieces apart.

"Honey helped me build the battery." Hiccup glanced up at the boy sharply at the mention of the nickname. Still holding one thumb against the stick, Hiro raised one of his arms, his coat sleeve falling back to show his bare forearm.

Well, bare, with the exception of a single steel band around it. "I believe you have one too."

Then the pieces fell into place, and Hiccup definitely did not like the picture.

He opened his mouth, urgently wanting to exonerate himself, but the chain around his neck didn't allow him to make a sound, except that of his gulps of air ascending in pitch.

"You took it off her, didn't you? Like some kind of trophy." Hiro's voice wasn't powerful or deep; he was a barely pubescent kid, just like the boy he was slowly suffocating. But Hiccup could hear every inch of his hate. He shook his head, but the District 3 boy took it as a sign of guilt. "That's what people like you do, don't you? Gloating over blood and gore." Hiccup shook his head more furiously this time. He could feel his face heating – or was it turning cold. He swore he could hear the arteries in his brain pumping frantically, trying to keep up with his fading consciousness.

No! He ground his teeth together, his fingers starting bleed after wrestling so long against the metal. Hiro's voice was still ringing in his head.

"People like you don't deserve to be saved."

Hiccup was just on the verge of lowering his hands and letting himself sink into the abyss, which promised painlessness and mercy. That was when he heard a series of detonations, following by an earsplitting crash that sounded like someone just used a bowling ball on a chandelier. It must have been loud enough, because Hiro had raised his hands over his ears at that moment, releasing his grip on the controller.

Hiccup felt the chain loosen its hold slightly. With close to Herculean effort, he tugged against the chains repeatedly. It was difficult, because a tug on one loop meant the tightening of another. He was starting to see black spots in his vision, but his stubbornness kept him going. Eventually, the chain slackened enough for him to wrest it from his body completely, fling it to the snowy ground. Coughing and taking in the deepest a breath he could, he broke into a canter. He pushed himself to go as far as he could, away from the enraged District 3 boy. He would have tried explaining, but he had a feeling Hiro wasn't interested in listening.

"Hey, get back here! We're not through!" He could hear the black-haired boy chasing after him. He upped his own speed, forcing himself to breath, though each inhale was like a fire in his throat. He kept his eyes fixed forward, hoping that he could make it past the stone border of the Arena and escape.

Of course, the odds weren't in his favor. He felt something cool and hard wrap itself his leg, trying to yank him back.

"Stop!"

He didn't, of course. He kept plunging himself forward, not letting the slippery snow or the uneven terrain slow him. He felt the chain curling itself more firmly around his shin, but it simply made him want to run faster.

"Stop!"

The chain was coiling really hard around his leg, and he could start feeling pin and needles attacking his shin, but he could not stop. The minute he did, the chain would crawl up his being and choke the life out of him again. He shuddered. That was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

He was running so hard that when he subsequently jolted to a halt, he ended up doing to a complete somersault before landing flat upright on the snowdrift. But of course, it was likely that he wouldn't remember that part. You see, he was far too occupied in tearing his lungs out. A forgivable action, considering the metal chain had drilled into his shin and crushed its bone.

* * *

The scream was from Hiccup. She recognized the nasal tinge in it.

Astrid's head turned into that direction at once. In the distance, she spotted him, curled up in the snow, clutching his leg and crying. She would have called him cowardly, if she didn't notice that the snow around that leg was stained crimson. She couldn't help blanching. She could also see that the District 3 boy, Hiro, was slowly approaching the boy, carrying a menacing air about himself.

She didn't notice it, but her grip on her opponent had relaxed, and her opponent was quick enough to realize that.

Banging her skull against Astrid's whilst stepping on her foot at the same time, the blonde then let her go with a startled cry. Wiggling free successfully this time, the redhead delivered a clean punch at her face, before dashing away, heading back to the Horn.

Astrid kneaded her own cheek, letting out a groan as the ache set in. Straightening herself up again, she picked up her fallen axe. Taking up the dagger that the redhead had failed to retrieve, she was about to set off after the District 5 girl again, but something kept her planted to the ground. It was this nagging sensation at the back of her head – or was it the strange pounding of her own heart?

Her eyes flickered first to her District mate, then to the redhead, then back to her District mate. Practicality told her to go after the archer before she reached her backpack, to take her out when she was out of ammo. Hiccup never stood a chance with herself in the Games anyway.

But she couldn't move her feet. Her glances at Hiccup became longer and longer instead, and she found herself shrugging off the District 5 girl. Though she had no arrow then, the redhead had managed to strike a nerve. The blonde had never quite acknowledged it before, but it was true; she may have friends cheering her on, Career trainers watching her every move, but none of them actually cared about her as herself. They weren't waiting for Astrid Hofferson to come home, just another Career to bring them glory and gold. How many people would have cared if she had entered as her street peddling self?

She could think of only one.

She spun around and dashed towards the two boys.

"Hey!" She yelled. Maybe she could grab the District 3 boy's attention and buy Hiccup some time.

The russet-haired boy on the ground lifted his head, and so did the black-haired boy. With all her might, she flung the District 5 girl's dagger. The blade sailed towards the District 3 boy's head, but missed at the last minute when he ducked.

She raised her blade high, prepared to throw it when she got nearer. Her logic was still arguing with her, demanding from her to stop this foolishness. What was she doing, trying to save the wimp in the Hunger Games?

She didn't know it until then. She hadn't realized it, but it was impossible for her to kill Hiccup, or even just leave him to die. She still remembered the lanky little boy who gave her a second chance at life when she had given up herself.

Only now, she realized, she couldn't lose the boy with the bread.

* * *

Hiro had never cut people up before, even less snap their bones after puncturing their flesh. He was usually squeamish about this kind thing. Blood and gore were for Careers. Careers like the one heading towards him, brandishing an axe. Careers like the one sitting at his feet, clinging to his bleeding leg, grunting in agony.

Pity and a smidgen of remorse rose up within him, but he stifled them at once. Was_ pity_ shown to Honey? Was there _mercy_ for her?

He jabbed the buttons on his device. The metal chain drew itself out of Hiccup's leg, making the boy cry out again. The wound was pretty gross. Hiro could see the blood oozing out from the hole, even a bit of the shattered tibia bone sticking out.

"Hiccup!" Astrid was catching up. Avoiding the knife was a close one. He rather doubted he could miss the axe, though. He had better make this quick.

Flicking on one of the controls, he sent the chain crawling up Hiccup's torso, but instead of going around his neck again, the metal coil wrapped itself around the skinny boy's chest this boy was huffing and puffing anxiously, scrambling to remove the chain, but to no avail.

"Forget it," Hiro told him pointedly. He knew that the chain was much too strong. it was built to destroy other robots - human muscle didn't stand much of a chance.

The District 2 boy looked at him, swallowing in fear. That made him feel uncomfortable again, but Hiro shut that feeling out. He allowed himself to feel resentment and bitterness. He let himself hate.

"This is for Honey," he said gravely, his finger hovering over the button. Hiccup grunted when the coil constricted once more, the sharp metal tips at the end poised right over his heart.

Just as Hiro was about hit the lethal blow, he heard the boy croak, "Is this what Tadashi would have wanted?"

The words paralyzed him. "What?"

The boy gulped – in pain, Hiro realized, not fear. In barely a rasp – "Is this what Tadashi would have wanted?"

The name alone was like a strike against his own heart. His conscience began to prod him. His brother would have never done this; Tadashi had always wanted to help people, to shower compassion on any being regardless. Tadashi had been the reason why he had bargained for the lives of twelve in the first place, and why he felt crushed when the number fell to five.

"Hiccup!" Though coming up fast, the blonde was still well out of range.

Well, he wasn't going to waste the limited slots on Career scum.

"Tadashi's gone."

He hit the button.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Finally all my favorite clashes!**

**Shen getting fireworks in his pack is a reference to his use of firework cannons in KFP2. Fireworks may seem a bit over kill in the Hunger Games, but if you a cryokinetic in it, you need something that can actually hit her. Ahem. Melt her.**

**Hiro's 'advantage' is a mega-bot - something like what has in the beginning of movie - except I've adapted it such that it's more like a huge coil of metal links instead, so that above monstrosities can be committed.**

**Up Next: The Feast Part 2: A.k.a. A Tale of Three Blonde. If you thought part 1 was exciting, you ain't seen nothing yet.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hi guys. Sorry that this update is a bit late, but I just got a beta! If you notice a plummet in typos, is probably all thanks to MissiriKoharehn, who has graciously offered to edit this. We do however live worlds apart, so sending and editing docs take some time. Just hope you guys can understand the slightly later updates for the following chapters.**

**This chapter is 11,000 words excluding A/Ns. So if you feel your self staring at your electronic device for an extraordinarily long time, it is not a mistake.**

**Mailbox:**

**waveringshadow: Well, looks like Jack didn't choose Elsa after all. I think I didn't make it clear enough - sorry, I've edited - but Jack's choice was actually between Elsa and Emma. I have to admit, Jack isn't really Peeta. Not compared to ...**

**Maggietheawesome: Alright. alright. Elsa won't die. In this chapter, at least... Gothel is wonderful in that she's such an enigma.**

**M.A. (Chap 1-7): If you would've reached here, you would know that there is certainly no rainbow snow one - I mean, Tooth's dead.**

**MissiriKoharehn: Hey there! Thanks for being around.**

**Extreme A: I think that was a lack of clarity on my part, so I've written that bit again. Jack's choice is really between Emma and Elsa, so yeah...**

**WarriorQueen 14: Thank you really for the lengthy reviews - I truly enjoy them. The Hans/Elsa problem will be featuring again, but don't count on it actually changing much. (But most of your predictions are pretty close so... don't call me out on being predictable, kay?)**

**hiddeninthelibrary: Thanks! I love bringing out the best and worst of emotions.**

**that one evil girl: (checks chapter, then returns to typing) well, considering Shen just blasted Elsa's ice defense and she's caught in the rubble, and he's got a can of gunpowder...**

**Snowlitbutterfly: I hope the grammar's improved, and I hope you enjoy the rest.**

**Awsomaniatica: Thanks for your lovely reviews once again. I'm quite proud the 'Van's farewell' segment honestly, and I really love the song Noble Maiden Fair. Mentors can team up, but their mentees may have problems following instructions along the way... *cough**Hiro**cough*. All tributes have made at least one appearance in this chapter, which may explain why it's so freakishly long.**

**FantasyQueen152: Jack's certainly in - he had to do it, at some point. As for Hiccup's bracelet problem, you know witness the consequences of it...**

**Thanks for reviewing guys! We're gonna hit 300 reviews soon, so I'm pretty excited, even if I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not. But really I am.**

**So long. Hopefully the next chapter comes soon.**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **


	36. Chapter 34: A Tale of Three Blondes

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 34: The Feast Part 2: A Tale of Three Blondes

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

While its most remarkable abilities were its rapid flight speed and its plasma blasts, Night Furies also possessed a very good sense of hearing.

So even a practically a Quarter away, the beast, which had been aptly though undignifiedly called Toothless, heard the scream emerging from the throat of a familiar human companion, he cocked his head up in alarm.

As far as the dragon was concerned, humans were revolting, mindless, stupid creatures who took an unfortunate pleasure in lording over the other races. He had witnessed the atrocities committed to his kind by those sadistic bipeds, and had many of those horrors carried out his own body. He owed mankind nothing, except maybe a scorching blast to burn them all to kingdom come.

But that strange little human youngling – the one who always walked as if he going to fall, and fell like he was still going to keep falling – he knew how to use his funny little paws to make magical little things that brought the dragons many nice fishies to gobble up. The Night Fury had never stayed so long in the presence of a human that wasn't trying perpetually to poke him with needles. Nor one that actually fed him. Nor one that spoke to him like another sentient being – though Toothless had to admit he hadn't a clue what the chirping sounds the youngling made meant.

If humans could have ever read the minds of dragons, they might be surprised to find that there was no conflict in Toothless' mind when he bounded away from the grass patch he was lolling in. For the dragon could not believe that the skinny human youngling wasn't quite human at all. No human would put their lives in the hands of a fire beast. Yet he couldn't be dragon either. He was too small and too weak.

So Toothless concluded that the boy must be human in flesh and dragon in heart. Or maybe he was a very sickly and incredibly, undeniably and completely ignorant little human male.

Regardless of his confusion regarding the strange little chirpy male, Toothless still spread his wings out, lifting himself to the skies with a single powerful flap. In a blink of an eye, he was slicing into the air, zooming pass the artificial clouds, heading straight for the centre of the Arena.

He could smell the boy now, and his fear. And something else...blood. The funny boy's blood. The boy's life was in danger.

Toothless growled. His speed increased almost tenfold, so quickly that he almost vanished from the Capitol's cameras altogether. When he was just over the circular white clearing that had nothing but the point grey rock in its centre, his senses took in the scene.

There were many young humans on the ground, but Toothless only sought out the scent of the funny boy. He found him quickly enough, huddled on the ground, having fallen – that was not much a surprise. Toothless immediately picked up the thunderous heart beats of the boy and his gasps of pain. The funny human's eyes were fixed on another young skinny human male, and he was shirking away, terrified. Toothless heard the other young human chirping something, and though he didn't know the words, he could hear the tone. It was reeking with threat.

The Night Fury swept down rapidly, throwing itself into a blur again. Anger had filled him to the brim, and he was determined this child of the revolting race would not harm the funny boy. His funny boy.

Parting his maw, Toothless emitted a loud piercing shriek that made both young males look towards him - or try to look at him, because he flew past too rapidly. The youngling that was standing up had dropped the strange black stone from his hand in shock, and that was when Toothless fired.

* * *

**Cornucopia**

The chain was about half a centimeter into his chest when Hiccup heard it. He recognized it at once, though it had been ages since he had been first exposed to it. Like a bullet train running past a platform, the screech escalated in pitch, coming down hard on his ears. He saw that the District 3 boy had been startled enough to drop his controller, his head upturned and his jaws hanging open. But Hiro wasn't stunned enough to lose his sensibilities; dropping to his knees, he unzipped his bag and pulled out a huge block-like object – the Mutt Manual, Hiccup realized – before opening it up and holding it over his head. Just half a second after he did, a purple bolt descended upon them.

Hiccup had, as an instinct, wrapped his arms over his head, as if they could offer any protection to him from the fire. But he wasn't actually afraid. In a matter of fact, relief came gushing through his soul like a river that had been dried out for too long. He knew that fire was dangerous, and plasma blasts even more so, but strangely enough - or perhaps not strangely at all - he no longer associated it with death.

When he looked up again, he was shocked how much everything had changed. The snow in the immediate vicinity had been melted off or blasted away, and the grass lying below it had been burned black. The technological prodigy was still very much alive, thanks to the shielding of the book – that thing really was indestructible - but the impact of the shot had thrown him back rather painfully. The boy now lay sprawled on the burnt ground, groaning as he struggled to sit himself up. A quick glance to his left also told Hiccup that the blast had been far-reaching enough to knock his district mate off her feet. She too was slowly getting up, and as far as he could see, she was unharmed, though certainly stunned.

Making use of the brief respite, he yanked the metallic chain off his person, wincing as the prongs were removed from his flesh. Still gasping in the remnants of his anxiety, he pulled against the coil, trying to crush it. It was far too strong, and he was far too exhausted. So he coiled it into a ball, and threw it as far away as he could.

He heard a 'whoosh' behind – so quiet that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking out for it. He felt a warm breath run through his hair, and he was about to twist himself around to see who it was when a surge of agony shot up his left leg.

Oh man, his leg. It looked like some had pressed a pistol into his shin and fired at point-blank, leaving a gaping hole straight through his leg. The only thing that proved that this hadn't been so was the rings of scratches around his calf. Those had been made by the metal coil when it had tightened around his leg. The bleeding wasn't as much as he had feared initially, but still, it was as if someone had just injected a ton of acid into his calf. He had to press a knuckle against his teeth to stop him from screaming.

He felt something cool butt him in the shoulder, so he glanced up. Staring right into his own eyes was a pair of emerald green orbs.

"Whoa!" He wasn't actually shocked. Well, at least he thought he wasn't. But he jumped anyway, and the vibrations of that action rattled his bone to the point that the wound flared up again. Even though he quickly bit into his hand again to still his cries, he couldn't hold back a whimper or two. The black creature by his side made a sympathetic croon, coming closer to him, shrouding him in the shadow of his protection, while making a threatening snarl at the spikey-headed boy, who was pushing himself off the snow.

"Toothless?" the voice that came out from Hiccup's mouth didn't sound like his own. His throat felt like sandpaper, and the skin around his neck felt as if was trying to close on him.

The dragon turned away from the attacker back to the scrawny boy he had saved, warbling in response to the ridiculous name. Any traces of rage on the creatures' dark countenance melted into concern and worry. Hiccup wanted to say something more – probably something sarcastic and affectionate - but talking hurt too much. Slightly wary, he lowered his fist from his jaw, then opened his palm towards the dragon.

Without even waiting for Hiccup to turn away his head, the Night Fury shut his eyes, then rested his snout against the hand. Hiccup's own eyes widened as the significance of the action crashing down on him. The delight bubbling in his soul was so great that it was almost good enough to drown out the unpleasantness the situation.

The word being 'almost'.

"Holy." Both dragon and boy glanced in the direction at Hiro, mouth agape. Then it struck Hiccup that not only did the District 3 boy know about Toothless – every tribute in the entire Arena knew it.

The spiky-haired boy snapped back to action, crawling from his position over to where the remote controller was, but Hiccup was much faster. Pointing at the District 3 boy, he began, "Toothless-"

As if reading his boy's mind, the dragon fired at the small black device that had caused Hiccup so much grief, burning it to crisp. Hiro made a shout of dismay.

"Thanks, bud."

Knowing fully that he was outmatched, the black-haired boy scrambled to his feet, grabbing the book and his bag, ready to flee. But the black dragon had leapt from Hiccup's side at that moment, galloping towards him, glowering, his bestial anger expressed by his upraised wings and its barred teeth. Hiro lifted the book in front him, practically waving it in the dragon's face.

Toothless drew himself back from the symbol of all his own pain, snarling as he did, but refused to make way for the guilty assailant. Instead, the creature swung its tail forward, batting the despised book out of the black-haired boy's hand, sweeping it out of reach before launching himself on to the boy. Hiro cried out in fear, trying to wriggle away, but the weight of the Night Fury was more than enough to pin his skinny body to the ground.

The dragon's emerald pupils then narrowed into slits, sending savage rumbles towards the terrified boy. Parting his jaws, a wisp of gas formed at Toothless' throat, followed by a bluish light that gradually building up in intensity and then-

"Toothless, stop!"

The dragon didn't listen at first, the hissing from his mouth getting louder and louder. The light in his throat was rolling into a ball of plasma. Hiro's breathing tripled.

"TOOTHLESS! NO!"

The Night Fury suddenly shut its maw, drawing himself back from his victim, letting him go but not taking his eyes of him. He made a shameful whimper, as if afraid that he had stepped over the line.

"No, bud, you didn't do anything wrong." Hiccup glared at the panting boy edging himself away from the dragon. "_You_ didn't, at least."

Hiccup considered himself a very tolerant person – so tolerant that he became quite an amicable bully victim to his peers. Due to his tendency towards thoughts of self-deprecation, he usually took the blame on himself, sighing and rubbing his neck each time he mentally listed his own flaws.

But this was incident he couldn't take on his shoulders. He hadn't attacked Hiro, and hadn't given any indication that he wished to do so. He had been accused of a crime that he certainly didn't commit and an ear for his side of the story was not even asked for. The real tipping point was that he was being accused of being the person that his father and his district had always pushed him to be; the cold-hearted, hardened Career who cared only about the victor's crown, and maybe decapitating other people. There was a time that he would have loved to have such a labelled pinned on him, but now, not only had that desire evaporated, the very thought of it disgusted him.

He got to his feet, or foot, actually, since he couldn't rest any weight on his left leg without swooning in pain. Keeping balance was tough, since the soft snow ground kept acting up just to trip him over. If it wasn't for Toothless jumping over quickly to lend him support, he would have face-planted into the snowdrift.

"Thanks, bud." The dragon crooned back almost affectionately. Hiccup couldn't help being amazed by how kind and warm the Night Fury was. After days and days of hostile distrust, the beast had not only accepted him, but cared about him to the point that he came back.

How the tables have turned; now Hiccup was the one standing tall, with a dragon, no less, by his side, while the child prodigy cowered in the snow. The searing wound in his leg that now plagued him was all Hiro's doing, setting his blood to quick boil.

"I should kill you." Hiccup's voice was soft and strained, but his burning eyes were enough to convince Hiro of how serious he was.

And deadly serious he was. The District 2 boy was certain that if he told the dragon to do so, the beast would rip the other boy into shreds, probably even bake his remnants in plasma. But that's what a Career would do – if a Career would even dare befriend a mutt.

"That sentence alone should clue you in that I won't. I'm not one of them." He waved his hand vaguely at the rest of the Arena, but he knew who 'them' really was, and he was sure Hiro did to. 'Them' were not just the Careers, but the Capitol, and any other idiot who thought that the Hunger Games was a fine activity for kids.

The tension in Hiro's body had dissolved somewhat, but the boy was still staring at him in pure incredulity. He couldn't quite understand it – too long his mind had been fixed in such of way that absorbing this would be tricky. It would be unfair to blame him for the way that he thought, but it was also pretty unfair to try to choke Hiccup and to fracture his leg.

"But I'm not one of you either." The russet-haired boy pulled back his left sleeve, where he found the gleaming silver band. Removing it, he tossed it into the snow, right in front of the fallen boy. "Unlike you," the emphasis in his voice weakened, becoming uncertain, "I don't think... I actually know who I am." He sighed, using the hand that wasn't resting on Toothless's head to brush his bangs out of his eyes. The District 3 boy's gaze fixed on him, confusion still all over his face.

When Hiccup looked up again, there was conviction in his raspy voice. "I didn't kill Honey Lemon. I held her till she died, but I didn't kill her. She gave me her band completely on her own accord." The memory was getting more and more blurry each time it ran through his mind, but he still remembered the blood on the glasses, and the words of the dying girl. "She was willing to give me a chance. What about you?"

Hiro's eyes seemed to glaze over at the news.

If he did have anything to say then, Hiccup would never know. Because at that precise moment, a loud voice broke in through the sky.

_"Attention all tributes,-"_

But before that, a rather distressing line up of events happened to the tributes scattered all over the Arena, so let's not get ahead of ourselves.

* * *

About five minutes before the announcement, Jack heard the District 5 girl screech, "Elsa, lookout!"

So of course, he made the fatal mistake of looking behind.

He was greeted by the sight of an alarmed-looking Elsa standing in an array of her own ice constructs, and she had just summoned up another wave of ice barriers to block the incoming projectile. It didn't help in the slightest, though. The minute the fiery projectile came in contact with the walls, it detonated into a myriad of flashing colours. The ice constructs were shattered, and walls came tumbling down. The explosion rang against their eardrums, the impact almost knocking them off their feet.

"Elsa!" This time it was he who yelled. Jolting to a halt, he almost caused his companion with seventy feet worth of hair to trip. If she was annoyed by him, she didn't voice it. She too was busy gawking at the blazing eruption and destruction.

When the smoke had settled, he caught sight of tall, wiry figure moving towards the shambles of ice pillars, a long lance sword resting on his shoulder and a menacing smile across his pale face.

"Jack?" Rapunzel put in timidly.

He removed his hand from hers unconsciously, taking uncertain steps toward the centre of the field.

"Jack, I don't think she's… anymore. She couldn't have, with that."

He didn't answer, but he didn't resist when she held onto his arm and began dragging him away. A wave of sadness swept over him, followed by a crash of guilt. Maybe he could have stopped it. Maybe he should have tried. But Emma came first. Emma always came first.

Just as he was about to turn away for good, he realized something curious. The ruins of ice constructs had an eerie red glint within them. In that, he found a surge of hope.

_Elsa was __alive._

Snatching his arm away, he lifted his staff from the ground, turning around and running towards the debris centre.

"Jack! Where are you go-"

He drowned out the blonde's voice, tearing his teeth against the wind as he surged forward, his staff thrust forward.

_Sorry, Bunnymund. Sorry, Emma._ He couldn't turn a blind eye to this anymore than he could rip his own heart out.

He was a guardian, after all.

* * *

"Jack!"

He had launched into full sprint, and she couldn't keep up with him while trying to balance her armfuls of hair and the frying pan.

"Jack! What about the plan?" she shrieked, chasing after him the best she could. In the end, one of coil of her hand had fallen from her arms, but she hadn't the time to pick it up. So she let it trail behind her as she sprang herself forward.

Then a sharp scream reverberate in the air, immediately sending goosebumps all over Rapunzel's skin. She whipped around, tracing the source of the voice. Far on the other side of the Cornucopia, she spotted Hiccup, yelling in agony as he clutched a bleeding shin to his torso, while Hiro slowly strode towards him, a dark look cast over his contours.

Wait. Hiro?

Rapunzel could only stand still, completely stunned as she watched two boys conversing, the expression on the District 3 boy's face becoming grimmer and grimmer as each second rolled by. The sudden influx of confusion in her brain completely robbed her of action or speech. What on earth was going on?

Then something came whizzing past her head, and she squealed as she ducked, covering her head with her frying pan at the same time. Glancing up, she noted that her assailant was standing a few feet away from the table by the Horn's mouth. It was none other than Dagur, the crazy boy from District 4.

"Hey, remember me?" He bore a toothy grin at her, a dangerous gleam in both his scarred and unscarred eyes while giving a careless wave. "The guy who tried to impale you in a barricade of ice, yeah?"

Then, his brows suddenly furrowed together as he shot another row of bolts from his crossbow. With a frightened yelp, she rolled out of the way of the projectiles, hopping to her feet again and dashing as quickly as she could. If she could put some distance between herself the Career, maybe she could get out of his range.

She had been pretty close to the Spring Quarter border, so she ran in its direction, glancing over her shoulder every now and then, finding great relief that he was unable to fully catch up with her on the slushy wet ground. She was just about to pass the gray stones leading to the warmer haven when she yanked to an abrupt halt, an explosion of pain in one of her arms. Her feet stuck to the ground, she let her gaze dropped to the region of injury. To her intense consternation, she found a huge spiked hook skewered through her right arm like a kebab.

It didn't stop there. She was suddenly yanked off her feet and hauled backwards, as if she were a fish being towed back to the ship. She screamed, kicking while the hook biting her arm took her swiftly and surely to her assailant. The rope of blonde hair wrapped around the bleeding appendage got tangled in itself, falling away from her grip and control. Her head hit hard against quite a few snow rocks while her body raked through the snow, leaving a canal of snow behind her. Clenching her teeth, she let go of her frying pan, letting it fall in the snow. Using that free hand to dig into her pockets, she found one of the many knives that she had been given in her backpack. Gritting her teeth together, she felt for the rope attached to the hook, then pressed the knife blade against it, sawing it till it broke.

"Hey! You ruined the harpoon, you -" she heard him throw a list of expletives at her.

Letting go of the rope, she allowed her body drop onto the snow, letting herself take a short breather. The burn in her pierced arm was excruciating, but she was sure she could bear with it. Until she had a chance to heal herself at least.

She must have rested far too long, because she then heard her assailant howl, and found a sword's blade stabbed into the snow next to her head.

Inhaling sharply, Rapunzel sat up at once, then arched herself backwards to avoid the next swing he swung in her face. The Career from the fishing district gave a mad cackle, before lunging at her again. Fortunately, she had gotten back to her feet by that time, and managed to jump away from the mad swings. Once when he had lowered his blade, she made a bold slash with her own knife, almost cutting at his chest. Unfortunately, he used his free hand to grab her left one, clenching on it so tightly that she cried out, dropping the knife. He pressed against the bone again, the pain so great that she found herself unwittingly collapsing her knees again.

Part of her was egging her to get up – knee him in the balls, punch him, anything! But the other part was just shouting _'Pain! Pain! Pain!'_, shutting out any voices of retaliation. And the latter was winning.

She felt a prickling sensation beneath her lids and knew she would end up bawling if he kept this up, so she held her head down, not in fear of his mad eyes, but of showing how hurt she really was.

He was laughing, gloating in his easy victory. "Don't worry, Goldilocks," he said between mocking snickers, crushing her arm again in his vice-like grip, forcing a whimper out of her. "I'm going to dice you up and rip you open, till you're begging for mercy. Just like the stupid 10 girl."

That made her head jerked up in alarm. She found herself meet his crazed eyes, and her brows narrowed together. She could read the sadistic ecstasy in his eyes, the pure joy that he earned from her terror, but she wasn't afraid of him. All she felt was a flood of disgust and anger, rising and swelling within her like a hurricane.

He must have seen the change in her face, because he hurriedly descended his blade on her that moment. But before the metal could touch her head, her right hand, the very same that had been speared through by his harpoon, shot up to stop it. She felt fresh blood pouring down her arm as the blade dug into her palm, but she could barely feel the pain. All she saw was red, red and red.

Her jaw tightened, her emerald eyes boring into his skull, communicating her promises of harm far more effectively than his words had.

It was Dagur's turn to gulp in fear.

* * *

_Ha. Who knew?_

Merida supposed she could consider herself lucky. Lucky that the District 2 boy decided to squeal at that precise moment. Lucky that the blonde Career got distracted. Lucky that said Career cared enough about her District mate to cease her hunt in favor of presumably rescuing the scrawny auburn-haired boy.

Nevertheless, it was a strange thought that a Career would care about anyone other themselves. Especially in the Arena. Especially if that person was weakling. Merida decided to file that piece of information, just for future reference.

Making a beeline for the table, she was somewhat relieved to note that most other bags were gone. Not that she was glad that her competitors managed to get hold of their 'advantages', but an empty table meant that she would hopefully not run into anymore attackers. After the battle with the blonde Career – if it could be called a battle, since it was very one-sided – the redhead was tuckered out and wounded. She pressed a hand against her bleeding head as she went over to her own backpack, only lowering it when she needed unzip it. As she had hoped, inside the bag lay a quiver of fresh arrows.

She swung the quiver strap over her head, trying not to let the nylon scrap against the head injury. When withdrawing one of the arrows and notching it, she realized that unlike her old arrows, this batch wasn't made of wood. Rather, the stem was made of some kind of strong opaque plastic, while the tip of metal - no one was going to snap these arrows in their hands.

She spun herself around just as she fitted it, feeling stronger and surer of herself as she faced the Arena. Her eye fell on the various tributes in sight, wondering who she should take out first: the Careers, or her so-called allies.

Her confidence was her mistake, because her greatest threat came from behind the table. She didn't hear him when he climbed the table, or when he raised the spike mace over her head. What saved her was her assailant's compulsive giggling, that apparently could not be silenced while he trying to do a sneak attack.

She turned her head back, and her mouth fell open.

The short gray-skinned boy with yellow eyes was chortling madly before the mace came crashing down. He had aimed for her head, but her arm had flown out to protect it, sending her tumbling down to the ground. She gripped on her left wrist, feeling the awful old flare in her elbow igniting itself again. A broken arm the present of a nut job – that definitely felt familiar.

Turbo snickered, his eyes wide with delight as he caressed spiked-head adoringly. "Have I ever told you, Red, – _hee-heeheeheehee_\- how much I love my mace?"

Merida could only set her jaw in a grimace.

* * *

There are three ways an explosion can injure a person.

First is heat. With the sparks bursting out into flames of over 150 degrees, second or third degree burns would start appearing over one's skin. If you're lucky, you get blisters. If you're not, you get scars, and sometimes deformation.

The second way is by impact. A rapid increase in temperature causes a proportionally increase in air volume, resulting in objects near the centre of the detonation to find themselves flung forcefully away. That alone could possibly result in whiplash and if powerful enough, a few snapped bones if the victim frail or old. A lot of it times it just makes your heart jump up to your mouth, so it's not the unexpected flight that kills you. It's the landing. When gravity drags the body down onto the earth again, the resultant forces that lash out at the bones can cause massive fractures and even paralysis.

That leads to the third way: debris. The impact of the blast would usually cause the collapse of surrounding structures. Sharp splints could stab vital organs, or heavy concrete crush the life out of victims.

Groaning as her eyelids fluttered open, Elsa tried to sit up, only to find that there was a block of ice pining her torso down. Her arms were painted with dozens of scratches; some were grazes and others gnashes, all a result of the glassy shards surrounding her. As far as she could tell, she could feel her legs, but she somehow couldn't remember how to move them. Gingerly shifting her arms in front of her chest, she shoved the icy slab off, making a harsh sound as she felt the relief from the weight be replaced by an uncomfortable sear in her one of her lower ribs. She placed a hand over it, trying to numb the pain with her own cold.

Propping herself up, she gazed blearily around her. If she had been in a make-belief mood, she would have imagined herself to be the between the jaws of some gigantic ice monster. Large chunks of ice were protruding from the ground, spikes lined the terrain three-hundred-and-sixty, and an assortment of ice fractals were strewn all about. An uncharacteristically gentle shower of sleet fell from above, wet flakes splatting on her torn white coat and the craggy blue-white surfaces of the broken constructs. A white mist around the translucent rocks blended into the rising gray fumes, lingering reminders of the flames.

Somewhere in her fuzzy mind, she registered a dark shape behind the smog, looming closer and closer towards her, expand in size and foreboding. She curled her ankles closer to her hips, having every intention to hop to her feet but lacking the will to do so. It could have been the foreboding, approaching presence that had frozen her to her own shattered fortress base, or perhaps the sting in her right ankle telling her it had been broken.

Out of the shadowy smog came the first signs of danger. A set of five darts came flying out, just missing her head. The dark figure then tore through the cloud, revealing its owner to be the white-skinned boy from District 1, Shen.

She was a sitting duck – she knew that. But the blast had taken out more of her then she had expected, and fixing her ankle somehow didn't come to her as easily as fixing her ribs did. So when the boy thrust his curved blade at her, she fully anticipated the steel to sink into her ribs and slice in her half.

Perhaps it was good then that her eyes had been watching the blade advancing towards her at that time, because she felt a surge of panic, and panic decided to manifest itself as a defensive mechanism.

She had squeezed her eyes shut the next moment, waiting for the jolt of pain and the leaking of life from her body, but instead she heard a sharp clang just next to her ears. Open her eyes now, she found that the lance sword had been blocked by a sparkling crystal sword that she had created in that moment. A sword of her own in between her hands.

Shen was slightly taken aback to see the impromptu weapon, but he didn't dwell on it too long. Yanking back his sword, he spun it by the handle before sweeping it towards her. More prepared than she had been previously, Elsa parried the blow – a rather awkward deed, considering she did so whilst still on her knees, but strangely enough it worked. The second he fell back, she summoned a wall of ice – a crude one crafted in fear.

By the time he broke through the palisade, she had gotten to her feet, having swathed her twisted ankle with layers of ice-cloth. She was aware of how battered she looked; head to toe, she was tattooed with fresh cuts and grazes. Her pale yellow braid had bits of ice sticking out of it. The bruises on her cheek and the laceration on her chin would have sounded impressive as words, but in reality only made her appear haggard and drawn.

Perhaps in view of that, her efforts to face her opponent could indeed be called admirable. Her tired hands still gripped the blue handle, and her worn face was forced into one of ferocity.

He however was not at all intimidated. "You can't kill me with that, you know."

"I don't need to," she answered boldly, and maybe possibly foolishly. "I just need to slow you down till exhaustion takes you out."

He gave a plaintive smile, rather like a condescending teacher about to correct a gravely mistaken child. Then, with a flash of steel as his only warning, he charged.

Swipes, lunges, slashes – Shen rained each down in a continuous fury without pause, and only keen concentration allowed her to keep him from drawing blood. Even then, he still dominating the battleground. He had experience with footwork and swordplay, so he carefully drove her into a chasm created by the two still standing ice barriers, purposefully cutting off her moving space and her options for strikes. She could still slam her blade hard against his, jamming it mid-air, but that was all she could do. Even then, he would often find new openings to hit her, managing to nick her once or twice.

"You might as well give up, Witch," he told her right after he sliced her left forearm, making her hiss in pain. "You'll collapse from exhaustion before I do." With that said, he repelled one of her own strikes, before plunging his lance-sword into her side and pulling it just as quickly.

Elsa gasped, holding her hand over the new wound, staggering back as she fought to control the agony. All around her, the flakes were dancing agitatedly and the wind was starting to pick in speed. Without thinking, she dropped her sword, holding her empty hand out to her enemy, and her thoughts were those of simply removing the threat.

So she shot at him.

It was an unlike anything she had ever done before. A blast of raw emotion - _negative_ raw emotion. There was some agony in it, mixed with hurt and a good dose of anxiety. A little resentment and hatred was tossed in it too for good measure, but the primary ingredient was fear.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the taller boy dodged it, letting flew past his head, smacking harmlessly against the surface of an ice wedge. He cocked a brow at her. "Seriously?"

Before he sent another flurry of strikes at her again, her ears were filled with a yell belonging to someone she hadn't expected to hear from anymore.

* * *

No good deed goes unpunished.

"You cut my face, dearie."

Rash decisions often led to self-destruction.

"I know it sounds horrible unreasonable, but I take that kind of thing seriously."

Jack had been just about to step into the rim of ice rubble when he had been stabbed. He had heard of the metaphor before, and it's varied uses, but having now felt it - having a knife literally thrust into his ribs definitely topped the list of life's undesired repeat experiences.

He was much too stunned to respond to the first blow, but when Gothel ripped the knife out, he gasped, his mouth torn open in agony. His entire body shook, threatening to crumble down, but he then realized that he could still stand on his feet. She hadn't given him a lethal strike, and that confused him.

"Oh, did you think I was going to kill you nice and easy, did you?" She burst into a peal of hearty laughter even as she carelessly wiped the blood on her own jacket sleeve. Jack wore a façade of impassivity, though his knees wobbled and his arms dropped. The most he allowed himself to display was a grim exhale, when he held his left hand to the hole in his back, while his right still wielded the staff.

Gothel slammed the knife at him again, which he blocked off easily, but then she kicked his knee at the same time, and that one made him stagger back. Adjusting his stance, ignoring his hurt, he charged at her this time, bringing down his staff with enough strength to break her skull.

But the wave of giddiness assaulted him first, while the acrid bite of both new and old wounds began to eat up his focus. He slowed down his strike at the last minute, giving Gothel not only ample to time to avoid the hit, but also to grab his staff, wrenching it from his grip. The swiftness at which he had disarmed stunned Jack for a few seconds, giving her the opening to spear the butt of his rod into his chest.

Being a blunted weapon, it didn't actually puncture flesh, but it certainly felt as it did. Jack grunted when he lurched back, wincing when his spine smacked a cold, rough surface – one of the few standing ice walls, he later discovered. Gothel slid the bloodied dagger through one of his shoulder blades, effectively nailing him into the block. He hissed, his body quivering, his heart rate accelerating to unmeasurable speeds.

"I've known lots of pretty boys in my time," she said to him rather conversationally, tossing her curls back and checking her nails. He was wriggling like a fish on a hook, one arm trying to yank the dagger out of himself. Pain was flooding over him, threatening to consume every last bit of his self-control. "They were nice to me. Well, after I became beautiful." She added the last sentence rather distastefully.

Jack didn't comment, hoping his silence would be taken as disdain rather than defeat. _Elsa needed him._ He focused on that. _Elsa needed him._

Gothel merely shot a patronizing smile at his valiant efforts, shaking her curls. "You should have run, you know that?"

He bit his lip, not meeting her eyes, still tugging against the dagger's haft to no avail.

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't expect the likes of you to understand," he spat at her at rudely. Unwise, but it made him feel better anyway.

Gothel simpered at him. "Oh, don't I?"

She closed a hand over his own that he was using to pull against the dagger. Her grip was steel, and Jack feel the blood being flushed from his fingers. His breaths quicken, his rapidly heaving torso only aggravating his injury further. "You mean to say that I don't understand why you'd run to the rescue of your fair 'damsel in distress'?"

His brow creased, his breaths suddenly stilling.

"You like her, don't you?" He could detect the pleasure she was getting out of the scorn. "You must think yourself so _chivalrous_ and _brave_ to risk yourself for her, but you're forgetting one important thing, sweetheart." Her voice dropped as she drew herself closer, such that he could see the cruel joy in her gray eyes. "Only one winner."

Drawing herself back, Gothel clapped her hands together. "Come, come. Let's get to work." She drew up a coat flap to display the splendid array of gleaming blades inside. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she picked out one of them – a long, dainty one with a jagged edge. "Yes, yes, this would do. Tell me, Jack," she smirked at her victim, who had gone suddenly pale, "have you ever gutted a fish?"

* * *

_He came back._

The three words sent ripples of gladness in Elsa's soul. Whatever his reasons for leaving, whatever signs he had given to make Merida suspect betrayal, Jack still came back.

Then delight fizzled out into horror. Jack was back, yes, but if his yell of pain was anything to go by, he was in a lot of trouble.

"You cannot hope to defeat me," her opponent snarled for what must have the tenth time during that battle. He must have thought her an idiot if he would think she would simply give in like that, but she supposed she could applaud his effort. His confidence wasn't mistaken either. He had managed to smatter two of the ice blades that she had crafted before, which is why she now resorted to making a portable shield for herself instead.

She heard a distance cry from same boy and she knew that she couldn't waste any more time battling the Career. She needed to get out of this fight, somehow.

As she raised her shield to block yet another blow from Shen, she stomped her good foot, summoning a chunk of ice to shoot up from below his feet. He however simply leapt into the air, doing a flip before landing gracefully and safely out of the way.

"Is that the best you can do, witch?" He sneered at her, brandishing his blade at her. "You might as well tear out your heart and save me the trouble of doing it."

Elsa sucked in a breath, resisting the temptation to call a shower of spikes onto him. He was right. She needed a new plan – beyond ice weapons, ice castles and icicles.

"Besides, there's no way the Gamemaker's would let you be victor," the boy sneered. "They'd never let a _monster _win."

The words were like a blow to her heart, and it came right before another blow to her shield. She heard a sharp crack, and noted that the ice plate was beginning to splinter.

Deliberating over his words for a second, Elsa then had an idea. She had never tried it before, and she honestly didn't know if it would work or whether it was ethically correct to do it, but now wasn't time for such thoughts.

"You want a monster?" She called out to him, her blue eyes seemingly catching flame. "I'll give you a monster!"

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a bolt of ice flying, but this time it wasn't aimed at her opponent. There was a spray of ice when the blast smacked against the snow littered terrain, and a swirl of mist rose suddenly, disappearing only to reveal a large boulder of ice that possessed two blocky legs, a laughably small head, and a pair of humongous crystal arms. It was almost twice her height, and probably ten times her weight. And the boulder of rock was moved.

It took one look at the Career before letting out a ferocious roar.

The white-haired boy brushed the newly formed frost off his attire, looking more flabbergasted than miffed.

The creature gazed at Elsa expectantly. She reeled haltingly away from it, when she realized that it must be simply waiting for orders.

Pointing at the Career, she commanded, "Keep him away from me, but don't kill him." She added with a dark grin. "Feel free to try anything else."

With an almost respectful nod, the creature turned to the chagrined Career, pressing one fist into its other palm ominously. Shen murmured an intelligible curse, before spinning on his heel and fleeing deeper into the wreckage. The creature pursued him, sending tremors in its every stomp.

Elsa could only gaze on in amazement. That went surprisingly well.

Now, for the rescue mission.

Darting through the spires of crystal, skidding over the frosted surfaces and hopping over the cracks, she made her way easily out of the explosion site.

The snowfall in the Arena seemed to have increased since the last she saw it. Her emotion had been hyping up, so she shouldn't have been surprised at that fact. In the clear white sky, she caught sight of a black blur and from it emerged a purple fire, hitting the ground around the other end of Cornucopia. She gawked at it, wondering what it could be.

Then, a closer sound caught her attention, muffled only by the ice structures obstructing her - "Now, tell me Jack, have you ever gutted a fish?"

"Jack!" She shouldn't have screamed, shouldn't have given away her location, but she couldn't help it. The palpitation of her hearts were hitting a record-high when she wove her way through the last ice structures, praying that she wasn't too late.

Her arrival stunned both assailant and victim. Jack was still alive, but definitely wounded. From his face to his chest, to even his knees, he was smeared in blood. One knife was still stuck in his shoulder blades, pinning him to the ice block like a notice to a cork board. The sinister grin on the District 1 girl's face gave way to a gape, then contorting into frustration. Flipping the knife in her hand, she tried to throw it, only for Jack to kick her in her shin, knocking her aim off and earning deathly glare from her.

Elsa got straight the point. "Let him go, or I will kill you." There was no waver in her voice, and the District 1 girl was well aware.

Still, Gothel sniggered. Elsa narrowed her eyes at her, holding an arm out.

"I'm not joking," the blonde warned once again.

"Oh, I know that," Gothel answered with an air of mock indulgence. "It's just that I can't help feeling a little sorry for your other," she raised two pairs of crooked fingers, "'boyfriend'. Tell me, dearie," she made a casual wave to the bleeding boy, "does he know what a two-timing little minx you are?"

Elsa had prepared quite a lengthy and rather heated objection to the insinuations, but before she could voice them, a loud voice rang from the sky, _"Attention all tributes-"_

Her blue eyes turned upwards instinctively, as if she expected to see some talking face in the blank white above. Her mistake.

_"-there has been-"_

Gothel had jolted back to focus faster than the other two teenagers. Searching her coat and her strap for another blade, she drew her arm back and flung it at the blonde.

_"-a rule change. If-"_

Fortunately, there was someone watching her. "Elsa!"

The ice mutant dropped her gaze, shocked to find a dagger spinning towards her. Unwittingly, her hand twitched and the resultant ice blast knocked the weapon away, causing the rise of a few stalagmites from the ground.

But Gothel was already on the roll. Two more projectiles appeared in her hands and she shot one of them at Elsa. Gasping, the blonde called up a ice wall before scurrying away. The knife hit the wall, but instead wedging itself it, it smashed the palisade instead, breaking it into tiny crystals.

When the black-haired girl poised herself to fire the next blade, Elsa was prepared herself not just to divert the projectile, but to stop its thrower for once and for all.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one with that train of thought.

_"-the last two remaining tributes are-"_

Jack must have gathered up all his strength and determination to finally dislodge the wretched knife from his bones. Casting it aside, he threw himself at Gothel, stepping in front her and slapping the dagger out her hands.

And he did just that when Elsa had pulled energy around her to form a final ice blast, with the intention to stun rather than slay. However, the sudden change in scene spooked her, and the blast left her hands before it had been fully crafted.

"No!" she cried, but it was too late. Both Jack and Gothel glanced up from their own struggles to note the ball of blue flying toward them. Or flying towards him, since he was standing in front.

_"-from the same district, both-"_

The shot had no direction or form, as far as Elsa knew. It was just a globule of pure emotion. And that was the problem – she hadn't any control over her emotions.

When the blast hit Jack's chest, he reared back, his breath rates starting fluctuate in odd patterns. The most noticeable change in his condition however was the blue glowing patch on his chest.

Elsa shrieked. Gothel gasped. Jack's scrunched up in pain, burying his hands in his chest. It was like watching Hans getting speared all over again. Except this time, she was the one striking the killing blow.

_"-would be crowned victors."_

"JACK!"

He merely clutched the cloth around the glowing patch on his chest, staring pleadingly at her, before he fell to his knees, going limp in the snowdrift.

* * *

The witch just went ballistic.

With a howl of despair, she dashed forward. Gothel tried to attack her again, of course, but the blonde simply sent a powerful gust to knock her away, sending her flying into the air and smashing herself into an ice wedge. The ice mutant then hastily raised a cluster of icicles surrounding herself and her ally, preventing further assaults. For now.

Flustered and miffed, Gothel picked herself, brushing the snow off her hair violently. She took stock the important things first, stopping at one of the more reflective glass faces. She still had the awful laceration that the stupid District 10 boy had drawn on her face, which peeved her to no end. There was also a bruise on the side of her face, which created an unpleasant splotch on her complexion. And she had broken a nail. Well, wasn't that just splendid.

She then took stock of other damages. Her chest badly bruised from one of the blows the boy had given to her, but besides that, there was little else she needed to worry herself about.

_"I repeat."_

Well, other than that. Gothel rolled her eyes. Seriously, they might as well keep James Sullivan permanently plugged to announcing system, at the rate that the Gamemakers were going.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the District 1 girl decided to spy on the ice mutant through the fragments between the translucent stones. The witch was shouting at her ally, pleading him to awaken. After much hesitance, she even grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The pretty boy did not respond, his head lolling back when she lifted his torso

_"If the last two remaining tributes-"_

As disappointing as most events have been so far, this one actually pleased Gothel. It was as if all it was perfectly planned – the 10 boy freezing painfully to death, while his snow-shooting little friend gets eliminated on default. The black-haired girl slapped the remnant snow of her finger, smirking happily. Her work was done.

The rule change had been for the lover boy and his little ice witch, of course, but it would bring them no benefit to now. Not if the 10 boy died. No fairytale endings.

_"-are from the same district,-"_

Then an idea occurred to her. She and Shen could win. She made a face. It was weird, the idea of both going home _together_, _sharing_ victor-ship. It was repulsive, indeed, but perhaps it was her generous nature that dampened her revulsion towards the alliance. Perhaps she could put up with working together with Shen, despite their… _differences_, and the grave wrongs the white-haired boy had wrecked upon her.

Then she realized that hers would not be the only District to benefit.

Spinning herself around, she scanned quickly for the blonde warrior that was _supposed_ to be her ally. And also was _supposed_ to be hunting down and killing the eleven-scorer from District 5, not standing in a mere fifteen feet from her district mate, gawking at him.

Gothel vaguely noted that the scrawny lad of District 2 was standing side by side with a ferocious huge black mutation, and he was stroking its nose, as if it was some kind of – pet?

_"-both would be-"_

Being a woman of her word, she was obliged to carry out her promises. So Gothel removed a knife from her collection, balancing it on the tip of her fingers.

"C'est la vie, my dear." With an air of tragedy, she sighed. "I did warn you, and bad little girls have to be punished, don't you think?"

Swinging her elbow back, Gothel launched the projectile.

* * *

A mutt. He had trained a mutt.

Astrid's brain hadn't taken to the news too well. The wimpy, weakling of a Haddock taming a monster – a dragon no less. The notion was not just laughable, it was _inconceivable_. But then today was a full day of surprises.

_"- crowned victors. That is all."_ With that, Sully had signed off.

There had never been this many rule changes in the Games, and there had definitely never been any of this nature. But Gamemakers' word was law, and if the law had been changed...

The epiphany made her want to laugh and cry at the same time, so she laughed. There was relief, and there was hope. She didn't need to kill him. She didn't need to kill the boy with the bread.

Her blue eyes lifted themselves from her axe to meet those of her lanky little District mate. He was just as startled as she was, though possibly a little more skeptical. He flinched when he found her staring at him, but when he noted lack of her usual acrimony, a shadow of smile appeared on his features.

Then it transformed into one of sheer consternation. She couldn't understand it, till she heard a whizzing object approaching her rapidly.

She shifted herself, but only slightly, since her usual responsiveness was slowed by the bizarre happenings around her. Hence, the knife that struck her only penetrated the right side of her chest, rather than tearing out her heart in her left, as she knew Gothel's blows were well capable of doing. Nonetheless, a lung puncture was just as fatal, and much slower.

The game was up. Her disobedience of the elder girl's orders had come at a price – that she was well-aware – but she had fully intended to escape the battlefield before the other girl's wrath caught up with her. But the blonde knew that she had wasted time, changing plans in the spur of the moment, trying to do one last honorable deed.

Some psychological defense protocol in her body started whirring to life while life itself started draining out her, shutting down her systems swiftly. She lost control of her own limbs, falling into a heap as her eyes rolled to the back her head. Even the fighter in her capitulated to the abyss, letting the pain wane with sentience.

She heard a voice, imploring her to fight the pull, but the throbbing of her heart was too much of an earful for her to make out the individual words.

She drifted away.

* * *

"It's always people like you!"

Dagur had whipped out a flail, lord knows where on earth he kept that on his person, but Rapunzel didn't even blink at the sight of it. She had disarmed him when he had wielded a sword, a scimitar and even a mace – this would be no different. Her bleeding arm grabbed the golden loop of hair, staining the gold crimson when she held it up. With a swift swing, she coiled a loop around the chain of the flail, then yanked it out his grip, flinging it away and out of his reach. He helped in surprise, ransacking his person for another weapon, but Rapunzel then latched the golden cord around his right hand, tugging it towards herself. The boy jerked forward, his eyes as wide and saucepans, blabbering something about his own innoncence – _lies_, of course.

"People like you who are always bullying and hurting the smaller guys!" Rapunzel hollered over the frightened noises he was making. She twirled the cord over his head too, tying his arm to his neck, making him grunt in the discomfort. "People like you who are always abusing your strength, instead of using it for good!"

His left hand went for a short-sword on his side, but she caught his arm before he could unsheathe it. She rapidly swathed it in her hair, before coiling the cord around his neck again.

She was almost gnashing at her own teeth, her heart hardening by how terrified he looked. What a coward.

Dagur tried to kick her, but she stepped out of the way nimbly before slamming her own sole smartly onto his kneecap, forcing him to kneel. And there she was – the scared, hesitant, sweet girl towering over the powerful, muscular District 4 boy, holding him captive in her hair.

"It's always people like you that-"

She cut herself off when she caught sight of Hiccup, accompanied by Toothless, whose entrance she hadn't noticed earlier, hobbling across the snow grass, anxiously calling out to someone else lying on the ground over something or another. Further away, she spotted a small figure – Hiro - creeping away from the scene, heading to the stones that led to the Autumn Quarter. There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Their plans had truly fallen apart.

"Astrid!" Her gaze darted back to Hiccup. She could feel the captured Career writhing below, probably trying to loosen the binds. Wordlessly, she stomped on his shin, causing him to holler in agony. Well, at least he stopped struggling after that

Hiccup was near tears when he sank down by the side of his District mate, who was indeed the one lying horizontal on the snow. The girl's eyes were shut, and an ugly red blotch decorated her chest, along with the stained handle of a knife. Rapunzel saw Hiccup take the girls' hands in his own, begging her to stay with him.

The _unfairness_, the raw_ injustice_ of it all had stirred within Rapunzel a blazing flame, burning viciously and building into a fiery eruption.

She stepped behind Dagur, shortening the coil of hair in her grip. His body jerked against it, trying to push himself up from the ground to lessen the strain in his neck, but she pressed a foot down on his legs.

"It's people like you," her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the rage, "that take even the littlest ray of sunlight - the tiniest ounce of goodness and innocence - and destroy it."

That was the closest thing to a warning she gave, because without another word, she tugged against the golden coil while pushing Dagur's legs firmly to the ground.

The whole world seemed to go silent when the boy's neck snapped back.

A sickly sort of relief washed of her, filling her insides with a weird, icky sensation. She let go of the hair, and the body tumbled to ground, lifeless and still.

And the truth struck her.

She was a killer.

Rapunzel covered her mouth to hide her quivering lip.

She was a killer.

She shook her head, as if wanting to deny it, but it was real. All of this was real. This wasn't a training practice. This was the Hunger Games, and the Hunger Games had won. They had taken whatever goodness she had ever possessed, whatever innocence she thought she had, and warped into something corrupt and disgusting. She became like the dead Career at her feet. A pawn on the chessboard.

Her legs had turned to jelly, causing her to collapse next to her dead victim, sobbing between her fingers as she mourned the death of her old and purer self.

* * *

_Where have all the feelings gone?_

_Why has all the laughter ceased?_

_Why am I loved, only when I'm gone?_

_Gone back in time to bless the child._

\- Bless the Child by Nightwish

* * *

**S/N: **

**In this chapter, the biggest events happened to the three blondes, so that's why the title is itself. **

**Marshmallow is in the house! Whatever good he maybe able to do. Oh yeah, Toothless is back – not that many people care.**

**Hiccup is possibly the furthest person in the cast from Cato, but if you're a THG reader, you might remember that Cato did something similar to Clove. Hey, District 2. So yeah, Astrid's … well, at least as much as Dagur is.**

**I think many people have been speculating that Jack would get struck by Elsa's ice. Yes, gents and ladies, I'm that predictable. Hopefully placing the announcement in the middle of a fight, however, was not as predictable.**

**Oh, Rapunzel just killed a guy. Take notes. **

'_**Bless the Child'**_** was essentially the theme song for this chapter. It is my favourite Nightwish song, so yeah.**

**Up Next: The Feast Part 3: Reshuffle, Redeal. The battle ain't over yet. The final deathlist would be revealed.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey, guys. So... The Feast Part 1 was the first chapter to ever receive so many responses, and I can only say THANK YOU THANK YOU! because it's a very special chapter to me. **

**So, the 300 review mark as been crossed, which is awesome. Thank you very much, those of you who have been reviewing constantly, as words of encouragement are like water springs during a writer's block. **

**Sorry that this chapter was a bit late. I got a bit caught up in -not studying or writing my report, but – watching the Suite Life of Zack and Cody. It was kind of my childhood, so yeah.**

**Mailbox: **

**QueenElsaOfArendelle1: Elsa was on her own. Jack left her at first because of his new alliance's plan included using Elsa and Merida to draw the Career's away from themselves. Then Hiro snapped and Jack decided go his own way, and …yeah.**

**SmilingStarcat: When Rapunzel said 'bait', she really meant that Elsa and Merida were going to play distracters while the Band band ran off. Didn't quite work out, I guess. In the books, the bags had various sizes. So…Shen's would be huge, Jack's small, and Merida's…long? I should have described them more in the story, shouldn't I? Glad that you're liking this. You may kill for this chapter though.**

**hiddeninthelibrary: The Arena is not the best place to learn love, so Elsa is gonna struggle a lot. Hiccup and Astrid – Katniss/Peeta parallel, now Cato/Clove parallel. Hiro's under a lot of pressure – try to go easier on him. Your assessment of Ralph, Van and Merida are accurate, so …let's see the next chappie, shall we? Honey, it ain't a rant if it's full of lovely comments. Gracias!**

**waveringshadows: Action is really hard to write. I looked the nerd-on-nerd battle, but Hiro cheated. And now, Hiccup cheated even more (is that possible?). Hmm, I would say that Merida and Elsa has the most Katniss in them, Hiccup, Jack and Hans have moderate amounts of Peeta, and Rapunzel is…based on someone else entirely. **

**MissiriKoharehn: Just to answer your comments in docx – I think the story you mean is **_**Umbreytingu**_** by Elfpen? For this story though, Toothless' perspective is actually based more on the **_**Dreki Kyn**_** by Arcawolf. Both are really some of the best Toothless' POVs I've ever seen. Yep, Marshmallow. I was actually planning to save him for the future, but his presence is required for a plot line later. Yep, Rapunzel just killed. It is gross. Oh btw, Shen is both white-skinned and white-haired. He's actually an albino, but I've never really mentioned it explicitly. Thanks once again for helping me Beta this!**

**the fam man (chap 1, 3, 35): Welcome on board! Hope you continue enjoy! (Maybe if it doesn't make you feel like gorging your eyes out. Possibly.) **

**WarriorQueen 14: Dark Hiro. Yep. Hiccup as the 'boy with the bread' is reference to Astrid's backstory, which was all the way baaaaaccccckk in …chapter 4. Whoa. That was a long time ago. Hans is Foxface, and I love it! Merida was the one who warned Elsa actually, since she was the closest by. Hope this chapter cleared that up. **

**Maggietheawesome: To be fair to Hiccup, Hiro was the only one to attack him by the throat, so he couldn't pull the charisma think if he was choking to death (largely choking, plus damaged windpipe.) I'm used to your fangirling, so go ahead (I never talk to the characters, but I do put on voices and pretend that I'm them. Helps in writing dialogues.) Hope you can pry the bits of Jelsa in this chapter, because their gonna go dry after a while. Hope you enjoy the rest. **

**Awsomaniatica: I know right? And the whole thing is like blowing into bits in this chapter! And it gets worst. Really.**

**that one evil girl: Haha! Or crushed by Marshmallow. Or gets crushed by Marshmallow into powder. **

**Crystalline Quills (chap 1): Thank you. Hiccup dying? Can't answer that yet. Wait like… 7 chapters more?**

**Nightingale82: Well, Hiccup had his shot in explaining – sort of anyway (shrugs). We'll be seeing more Hiro in the future, and Hans too. **

**manyotpsforlife: Here's a hanky, honey. You'll need it for this chapter.**

**Pearlness4700 (chap 1): The twists shall stop the day the cliffhangers stop, which is never. hope you enjoy the rest of the story!**

**4Love4Love4 (chap 1,2,3,) Thanks man! Hope you continue to enjoy!**

**Guest: Troll lol. Seriously, dude?**

**Bye. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **


	37. Chapter 35: Reshuffle, Redeal

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Part 35: The Feast Part 3: Reshuffle, Redeal

* * *

Her breaths were getting shorter, her eyelids were drooping and her grip on her axe had slipped entirely.

"Astrid, come on, stay with me." Hiccup swallowed with a wince, before hissing through the sore of his throat. "We're together now – er, no that sounded wrong, um, we can go home together now. Working together! Ha! Erm, okay, not that great a prospect on your own side, I admit, but still – we could totally watch Gobber get drunk again, or shoot spitballs at Mildew! We could go – _no, no, please, please don't_-"

Her hands had started falling to her sides, so he took them into his own. They were still warm and sticky with sweat and blood.

"Astrid!" He was killing his own vocal cords at the rate he was going, but he couldn't help it. "You can't die. You can't-" his troubles in his speech only increased as sobs began choking up his airway too. "You're the warrior! You're supposed to fight this!" His grasp on her hands tightened when he felt her loosen own. "C'mon, Astrid!"

The Gods didn't just hate him. They utterly and completely despised his very existence, to the point that would only deliver him a blessing right before they twisted it into a curse. Here he was, almost murdered and crippled in one leg, freezing in the middle of the Cornucopia grounds, with the girl of his dreams dying in his arms.

He felt a tear trickle down his cheek, and though he had been taught to never show weakness, he didn't wipe it off, nor did he halt the downpour. What did it matter if the whole Capitol, the whole Panem saw him, a 'Career' of the Peacekeeping District, son of the great victor Stoick the Vast, cry?

Behind him, he heard Toothless emit a mournful croon, emulating his boy's emotions. He gazed up to find the dragon's head just beside his own, his green orbs flicking from the auburn-haired lad to the struggling blonde girl in the snow.

Where the images had been hazy before, Hiccup felt himself being abruptly dragged back to a very vivid and gruesome memory of another wiry young blonde, too in his arms, taken too early from earth by death's greedy claws. Even then he had been helpless, _useless_, like he always was.

Then an idea occurred to him. He couldn't do anything, yes, but he knew _someone_ who could.

He surveyed the Cornucopia grounds hastily, praying that his old ally by some miracle was still here and not far away with Jack in the Summer Quarter. To his great joy, he spotted the blonde girl sitting mid-route between a heap of ice and the metal horn. She was on her knees, her face buried in her palms. One of the loose golden cords seemed to be coiled around a big bundle lying in the snow – he couldn't make out what it was, but he wasn't too concerned about that. What he needed was her help.

"Rap-" he choked on the first syllable. Massaging his bruised neck, he tried again, croaking, "Rapunzel!"

The girl didn't budge an inch. She couldn't hear him. The distance was too great, and his voice was too soft.

He attempted raised his voice again. "Rapun-"

It was impossible to continue. His throat flared up again, sending him into a coughing fit. Toothless hovered anxiously over him, grunting in worry, drawing his wing flaps move tightly over the District 2 boy. Hiccup was far too occupied to notice the dragon's actions, deliberating over the problem at hand, fully aware that Astrid's time was ticking away as he did.

He could try hopping over to where Rapunzel, but that would take far too long – judging by how wet his District mate's shirt was getting, she couldn't wait for him. He glanced over the Night Fury's wing and cursed. Hiro had escaped sometime during the debacle, so his own possible messenger had disappeared.

The simplest option was staring right at him – literally – and he had to smack his own forehead for not thinking of it earlier.

"Toothless."

The dragon met his gaze immediately, giving him his fullest attention.

The boy swallowed before speaking, "I need you to get Rapunzel."

The dragon blinked.

"Rapunzel," Hiccup repeated, pointing at the kneeling girl with the huge gold braid.

Toothless had glanced in the gestured direction, but simply returned to staring at the lanky little boy.

"Rapunzel!" The boy continued to point at the blonde halfway across the snow-ridden field. The dragon still didn't understand, no matter how many times he repeated the name. Toothless just wore an extremely confused expression while the skinny boy gesticulated wildly in frustration. "The girl in the cove with us, remember?"

The dragon's visage still had bewilderment, with a tinge of concern, all over it. Hiccup groaned, dragging a palm across his face. He knew that it wasn't the dragon's fault – he was supposed to speak human – but Astrid's breaths were getting shallower by the second, and her body convulsions were starting to settle quite unsettlingly.

Peering through his own fingers, Hiccup found the twin back fins of the Night Fury right in his own line of sight, and he got an idea.

"Your tail!" He cleared his throat as he directed beast's attention to the area which had once been crippled. "She's the one who healed your tail. You know,-" the boy mimed a wrapping gesture, then pointed at the tail again, then to Rapunzel.

The dragon's eyes seem to light up with comprehension, and he began to bob his head in excitement which Hiccup decided to take as a good sign.

"Yes, bud. Now I need you to bring _her_" -he gestured at Rapunzel, then brought his two palms towards himself - "to _me_."

The dragon warbled in acknowledgement, before bounding away across the snow, hopefully about to do what he had been instructed.

Hiccup got himself in another bout of coughs after that, an ache and a sore rubbing against his windpipe every time.

"You're gonna make it," he told the unresponsive girl lying beside him, taking up one of her hands and squeezing it. "You're Astrid." She had gone terribly pale from blood loss, and in the ice, her skin was turning cold too.

_Blood loss. _Hiccup stared at his own wound. Besides an occasional spike of agony, he was starting to build resilience against the pain. Nonetheless, pain was going to be the least his problems, especially with his own blood leaking like a bad tap. He made a peep of himself at the steel surface of Astrid's axe, grimacing when he noted that he too was as white as sheet.

Hearing heavy gallops on the snow, his head jerked up eagerly, then his face fell.

"Toothless, I said get Rapunzel, not her-" he had to break off from the reprimand in order to rub his throat again. Taking a second to think, he concluded that perhaps the dragon didn't deserve the chastisement. Rapunzel hadn't interacted much with Toothless, partially because she had been terrified by him, and because the Night Fury had been far too standoffish, as he had been once been with Hiccup. Perhaps in the dragon's mind, 'Rapunzel' was pretty much equivalent to healing hair.

As the Night Fury set the end of the golden cord with his mouth at his boy's feet, Hiccup had to blanch at the sight of the drool dripping from the dragon's maw onto the sparkling yellow locks. He shot a glance at Rapunzel, who had thankfully not seemed to have noticed the going-ons.

He sucked in a breath as he drew the tips of the hair over Astrid's wound. "Sorry about this," he whispered with a cringe.

He yanked the blade out as quickly as he could, but the blonde girl didn't react. Okay, that was _really, really_ bad.

Pulling the yellow hairs more tightly over the crimson flesh, he could help feeling a twang of guilt. When Rapunzel had sung her sung in front him to heal his arm wound at the time, she had him promise to keep her powers a secret – who knows what the other tributes would do if they knew? By doing this deed, he would be not only betraying her confidence, he was exposing her to invigorated attacks, like Elsa.

But there was no other way. Rapunzel had been rather sympathetic with his 'situation' with Astrid, so perhaps she would understand.

He knew the lyrics to the song, because he had heard once or twice in the brighter days of his childhood. His voice was weak and rough.

_"Flower, gleam and glow,_

_Let your power shine.-"_

* * *

She was blessed with a gift - a gift to _heal_. How many people could boast that? But she had corrupted the goodness. She had used very medium of gift to deliver the opposite sentence.

She was a killer.

She was wretched excuse of a human being. She was filthy. She was guilty. She wanted to stay like this, prostrate on her knees, hiding her face from the world forever.

She was a killer.

It was gnawing into her insides, chewing into her like a parasite. The revelations and the taunts loomed and expanded in her mind, mocking her as she gazed up from the pit she had tripped into.

She was a killer.

Quite suddenly, the negative emotions - all the self-hatred and revulsion - vanished away. Instead, she felt as if peace had been draped over her shoulders, comforting her, soothing her.

_"-heal what has been hurt,_

_change the fate's design-"_

And then Rapunzel realized that the healing wasn't just mental.

Peering up from her fingers, she realized to her bewilderment that her hair was glowing. Hardly a moment, she also noted that there was a tugging on the right side of her scalp. Hadn't one of her loose cords fallen behind when she had been fleeing from Dagur? It seemed that someone had gotten hold of it.

Alarmed, she rose to her feet, her eyes following the river of gold to see who this hair thief was. When she saw that it was the puny young District 2 boy, she felt a mixture of relief and anger. Relief, because it was in the hands of someone she trusted, and anger, because he had just betrayed that trust.

Somehow, it didn't occur to her to grab the cord of hair and swipe it out his hands. The girl that he liked - the fierce girl with the pretty name - was dying, and he must have been desperate to save her. She couldn't fault him for that. Maybe it helped to assuage her guilt a little that she was healing instead of killing.

_Killing. Guilt._ Her entire body froze.

The right cord of hair was with Hiccup. The left cord was still wrapped around the broken neck of the Career she had just murdered a few seconds ago.

Except, with the golden strands wrapped around that very neck, glowing in accordance to the healing chant sung by the District 2 boy, it wouldn't be broken anymore.

The good news? The guy she had killed wasn't dead anymore, so she wasn't a killer. The bad news? _Well, the guy she had killed wasn't dead anymore._

She felt the _'shink'_ before she heard it. She held a fist to her own chest, panting. It was like having part her soul permanently severed from her.

When Rapunzel turned her eyes to her left, she gasped in horror when she realized that not only had the left cord been shortened to a tenth of its original length, it been transformed into a dark, mousy brown.

"Thanks for the wake-up call." The criminal of the scene was guffawing to himself as he yanked the dead hair from his neck and torso, dumping it on the snow. The cord were all now brown instead of gold, and he stepped over them with a victorious grin. The glassy look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a gleam of fiendish delight. "Who knew? Another muttie in the Games."

She went stark still, her face going white.

\ Dagur whipped out a pointed projectile from his belt. Tossing it up first, he caught it again before hurling it at her. She managed to dodge it in time, but her hair wasn't that lucky. Her main braid had avoided any damage, but the dart had managed to slice the right cord clean off. The golden color leaked away as the dull brown crawled up the strands.

She cried out. He cackled.

* * *

She was breathing! Thank the Gods! Well, whoever they were, anyways.

Astrid hadn't awaken - possibly still drained with exhaustion - but Hiccup was in no mood to complain. She c_ould_ live! She _would_ live!

The twinge in his left shin told him that he had best attend to himself now. So he had grasped the golden strands and brought their tips over the wound on his leg instead. Clearing his throat, he was about to start singing, only for the gold strands to inexplicably turn ... _brown?_

He crinkled his forehead. He didn't remember Rapunzel go over this part. So clearing his thorat, he started singing,

_"Flower, gleam and glow,_

_Let your power shine,_

_Make the clock reverse-"_

He stopped short when he realized that the hair wasn't glowing. He began again, this time his brows furrowing more deeply,

"_Flower, gleam and glow,_

_Let your power-"_

It wasn't working. The hair was dead.

There was a squeal across the field, and he recognized that it belonged to Rapunzel.

Raising his head, he was gawking in horror as he witnessed the scarred boy from District 4 – _where the heck he appear from!_ \- slash the blonde right below her chest. The girl tried dart away, but the other boy stamped on the end of big braid, causing her stumble to the ground, flat on her chest. The Career was hooting away, spitting mocking words at her, laughing when she squirmed under his foot.

Immediately, Hiccup got to his feet – _foot_, the left one was still hurting like mad - calling out to his reptilian companion in a raspy, nasal voice, "Toothless! We need to go-"

He broke off when he noticed that the dragon had his eyes on the half-crumbled ice fort instead, where a terrible howl and shriek had just emerged. The russet-haired boy then watched as the Night Fury's pupils narrowed to slist again.

"Bud, what's-"

Without warning, the beast spun on its heel, biting into his shirt and picking him off the ground using his jaws.

"Toothless! Put me-"

The dragon gave no pause. Bounding over to Astrid, his front paws grabbed on her coat, and before Hiccup knew it, his entire world had gone into a blur, and the ground disappeared his feet - foot.

"TOOTH-"

His words were lost in the wind.

* * *

Betrayed. Abandoned. Alone.

Rapunzel had seen the Night Fury take to the skies, and she knew it was all over. Perhaps she should have expected as much from a Career, even a nice one.

But there were no friends in the Arena.

She made an agonized moan when she tried to push her body up from the ground, her face scrunching as she fought the pain. Dagur's foot however pushed her firmly back down, shoving her face back into the snow.

"Looks like the tables got turned, Goldilocks," he sneered at her, sniggering as he booted her on her injured side, making her yelp.

"And newsflash!" He sang as a chant, while he lunged with the blade, "I still win! I still win! I still wi-i-"

There was a sharp splat when a projectile suddenly tore itself through his chest. Glancing behind her, Rapunzel realized that Dagur's heart – whatever foul, cruddy black thing it was – was now replaced with a gaping red hole. Dagur's eyes went blank, and this time when he crumpled up onto the snow, Rapunzel was certain he would not be reawakening.

She knew the modulus operandi well enough to guess her savior. Getting back to her feet, she swept her eyes over the field. Near the rim of ice that Jack had entered earlier, she spied Gothel standing by spire of ice, her black curls bobbing in the wind.

The Career had in her hand another dagger, and this one she pointed at Rapunzel. The blonde felt her stomach constrict in anticipation, spacing her feet apart as she prepared to flee.

After all a long silent staring match between the two, Gothel, for unexplained reasons, lowered her arm, shook her head, spun on her right heel and left. Rapunzel still didn't dare to move. Surely it was some ruse to make herself let down her guard, allowing the black-haired girl to get better shot.

But Gothel just kept walking away, not even glancing back, and Rapunzel couldn't help feeling slightly put-off, and maybe a little bit disappointed.

Maybe after the series of alliances she made, she didn't want to fight in the killing field alone anymore.

She bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as she pondered uneasily over this conundrum.

* * *

_"If the last two remaining tributes-"_

Swing. Dodge.

_"-are from the same dis-"_

Cackle. Gasp. Wham.

_"-trict, both would be crowned-"_

Yelp. Falter. Reel.

_"-victors. That is-"_

Her head hit the metal wall of the Horn, and the impact was so hard that her clump of red coils barely provided cushioning. Before she knew it, she had been socked across the face by a boy two-third her height, fortunately with his fist rather than his mace. He delivered a jab to her abdomen, causing her to go slack against the metal surface, sliding down till she crashed down on her rear. Her spine, her shoulder, her stomach. Everything hurt. Her bow had been dropped some time ago, and she had taken the quiver off her person to use it as a bat, before he had knocked it from her hands too.

She had escaped merely fled from one peril to another, and now she would have been thankful if the blonde Career was the one who ended her life. Anyone would be better than him. Anyone would be better than Turbo.

His giggles were endless, filling her ears like the buzzing of bees, getting louder and louder as he approached her. Dizzy from blood loss – or was it the shoulder dislocation? – the sound which once simply grated her nerves now was drowning her in its shudder-inducing rhythm.

Merida tried to get up, to fight him back, to use her height over his strength and speed, but he shoved her back against the metal, chortling like the mad lad he was. She groaned, almost starting to see stars. She wished she was far gone enough too, but her eyes unfortunately worked well enough for her to capture the full insanity written across the gray-countenance.

"Hoo-hoo-yee! Isn't this exciting?" He squealed, shaking his mace around like a Pom-Pom in his enthusiasm. The redhead could only stare back at him, her expression blank but her insides squirming in fear- no, _discomfort_. _Only discomfort_, she told herself. She couldn't be afraid of a guy half her size and height.

But then, she was talking about the same guy who snickered as much as he breathed, and killed his own district mate with a smile.

"Have some candy!" He stamped on one of her knees and she screamed. The eerie grin on his lips widened as another peal of laughter. "_Heeheeheehee! Aha haha_-" he wipes a tear from his eyes "-I honestly have no idea why I say that. I mean, it doesn't even make sense in this – _tee-hee_ – situation at all!" He threw his head back and laughed, before pushing the head of his mace into her bruised stomach.

Merida sucked in a tight breath, squeezing her abdomen to be as small as possible, while pressing her back entirely against the wall. Some of the spikes were cutting into her flesh, but it was the gleam in his eye that she was more wary of.

"_Hmmhmm-hmm!_ Anyway, what on earth was I talking about earlier?" He prattled on as if this merely was a conversation over brunch. "Ah, yes! Why I love my mace! It's so shiny! _Hahahaha!_ And sparkly! And when you put in the light sometimes you can –wait, where was I going with this?" He dropped to a mutter, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, right. I was going to kill you," he informed her with a bright beam, "silly me. I'm such a scatterbrain. _Hehhehheh_…" He stomped on her knee cap again, making her wince but not cry out this time. Merida's fingers were aching and numb, but she managed to ball them up into fists. She would not scream, or shriek. She would not give him the satisfaction of her suffering, no matter what he did to her.

"It's rather sad," he sniggered, more in malice rather than delight this time, "you know, that you have die like that bratty little friend of yours. What was her name? Vanilla? Van-therapy? – Wait, don't rush me." He wagged a finger at her, then snapped when it hit him. "_Vanellope!_ Right! I mean, coz' your score's so much better than hers."

Merida froze, her heart stopping its palpitations altogether.

"We only targeted her because of you, of course. As much as she was a nuisance, I keep my eyes on the prize, don't I? Of course, Stabb-O boy had mess things up, but hey, at the end of the day, she still ended a dead brat." He gurgled sinisterly. "Am I right?"

Merida's ears were burning, and she was sure her face was too. This lunatic – it was his scheming that put Vanellope in danger in the first place. The dozens of vulgarities she shot at him felt far too inadequate.

Turbo only yawned at her screeches, even checking an imaginary watch as he did. "_Blah, blah_," he cut in, with a disdainful roll of his eyes, "now let's get to business." He removed the mace from her body, raising it over his head, still pinning her down with one foot. "So, Red," he chuckled, with a sinister smirk, "last words?"

She spewed the harshest curse she knew, followed by a spit to his face. The latter garnered at a response at least, as the gray-skinned boy flushed red, bringing the mace down in his fury.

Merida didn't mean to, but she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact.

But it never came. All she heard was the snickers melding into a startled shriek and a roar.

Her eyes snapped open, and her jaw dropped.

Towering over her was the gigantic boy from District 11. She had known how big he was before, but gazing up from the ground, it seemed that time in the Arena had only made him larger and scarier. With one beefy arm, he scooped the gawking Turbo up. Slamming the tinier boy against the steel surface of the Horn, the big boy boomed, "You killed her? You killed the kid?"

"Kid?" Turbo's voice had gone squeaky. His mace had fallen from his hand in his shock, while tittering nervously. "Wha-What kid?"

"Oh, I heard you!" The big boy – Roald? Ron? Ralph! His name was Ralph - bellowed, pulling Turbo off to thrust him against the Horn again, making the shorter boy grimace. "You killed the little girl, didn't you?" His voice swelled up an octave. "DIDN'T YOU?"

"It wasn't me!" protested the impish lad, panicked. His tiny arms groped uselessly against the other boy's solid grip. "I swear, it wasn't _meeeeeee-heeheehee_!"

The fuming boy growled at him disbelievingly, slamming his skull repeatedly against the wall, each hit harder than the last. Merida knew she should have tried to flee then, but she was completely transfixed by the older boy's wrath as he gnashed his own teeth, methodically bashing the whimpering and giggling boy's head. Then, a memory that seemed to have come from eons ago – a fragment of a confession.

_"There was … this big guy who showed the bullies up one day. Since then, they've never bothered me."_

It was then that it daunted on Merida that she hadn't been Vanellope's only friend in the Arena.

She was jolted rudely back the present when she witnessed the tiny form of the District 6 boy fall splat on the snow. His yellow eyes were wide open, and his pale lips had seemed to curl into a slight grin, despite the excruciating pain he must have experienced. There is no blood, only a little dent just above his left temple.

Shuddering, Merida withdrew herself, sucking in a loud breath.

Her first mistake. The puffing monster of a boy whirled around to face her.

She swallowed, her eyes darting to the limp body that once Turbo, then back to the mammoth. She squished herself against the surface of the Horn, as if she was trying to make herself smaller. Unconsciously, her gaze fell to the bow, lying ten feet away from her spot, and she found herself wishing it were her hand. That was the second mistake.

Ralph followed her eyes immediately. Finding them to be resting on the wooden weapon, he bent himself over without his own eyes leaving her to retrieve, then standing straight back to his full height again. In her head, Merida was kicking herself. All he needed to do was snap the bow in hlaf, and her chances in the Games would immediately crash down to zero. He might as well kill her right now.

But strangely enough, the boy didn't crush the weapon, examining it carefully instead, especially the handle. When he stared at her again, Merida could see the conflict in his eyes. After a terrible pause, he cast the bow to her, dropping it in her lap. Her hands clasped it at once while she shot him a questioning look.

"Just this once, Five." Ralph told her gruffly. "For the kid."

Stunned, Merida hugged the bow to her chest, watching in incredulity as the huge boy swung around, his backpack over his shoulder, as he stomped away across the field, heading straight for the Autumn Quarter.

She knew what he had seen; she could feel the jagged edges on the smooth wooden surface, and her fingers unwittingly started to trace out the letters. The thought would have made her smile if the day's events were already so upsetting. But no matter the injustices that the Arena wrecked upon them, one thing was true; even the Gamemakers couldn't stop Vanellope from reaching out beyond the grave to save the life of a friend.

Not daring to glance at the crumpled figure lying inches from herself, Merida scurried to her feet, grabbing her bow before dashing over to grab her quiver. Swinging it over her head, this time she didn't stop. She just kept running.

* * *

She was eight all over again, sitting in a hall of ice, holding onto the comatose form of her sister while screaming for her parents. Innocence had been unexpectedly shattered when they had rushed to the Victor's Village in the middle of the night, pounding on Pabbie's door and begging for aid. In the tension, in the fear, waiting in the lounge and praying for a miracle, she was rudely awakened to the two truths; Anna's recovery was exceptional and unrepeatable, and her own emotions had to be kept in line for the rest of her life. She was ice, and ice was cold.

And cold brought death.

There had been no sign of a wound – at least the one that was from her. From what she had seen, Jack had been faring very badly in the hands of the blood-thirsty Career.

Her fists balled, bordering on turning blue when she noted the straight puncture through his shoulder blade, right alongside the old wound. But she forced herself to uncurl them, taking deep breaths. "Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't-"

But how could she _not_ feel the outpour of guilt and anger? They came to the Feast only, _and__only_, to get Jack a cure. From the small bag labelled '10' strapped to one of his wrists, she knew that the mission had succeeded, only for her to deliver a worst affliction. And there were no surgeons in the Arena.

She knew that the snow beneath her feet was turning to solid ice instead, and frost crawled up the icicles shield surrounding them. She was vaguely aware of a swirling storm outside, and that the winds were rising. Prior to this motions, she would have tried to bury her emotions further, lest she accidentally froze all her competitors to death. But the time for that was already over – she had already broken the rule, and she could only await the consequences.

All the same – why Jack? Why did it have to be the person who cared about her? Who she too cared about?

That was the greatest curse of all; not the ice itself, but the harm that befell anyone she held dear.

There was a burning ache in her head, as if all guilt and remorse were eating into her brain. She was sobbing, a lump clogging up her throat, her cold tears falling onto his frozen form. She wrung her hands together, finding herself praying that whatever fate the Gamemakers had in store for her would be quick to kill and would not involve Anna.

_Anna._ Her eyes widened. How would her actions affect Anna?

That thought had to be put on hold, because it was then she realized that the throb in her head wasn't from the guilt. Her skull literally felt as if it was on fire.

She held a cold hand to own head, trying to numb out the physical pain, then pressed another to her temple. But the smarting sensation only got worse, smothering and smoking until to burst into a full blaze.

She choked on her own tears, gasping and tearing now in pain and shock. She clutched her head hard, rocking back and forth in the rhythm of her emotions. Agony, fear, helplessness – each struck her soul like a clanging gong, and together the clamor deafened her, pulling her down into a spiral of darkness and shock.

Around her, the fresh cracks appeared on all icy surfaces, branching themselves out and ribbing into the icicles and boulders. The depth and length of each fracture grew as with every tight breath she gagged on. When she threw her head back and screamed, ice structures all around splintered at once, disintegrating into snowy ash and shards. Smithereens showered all around, but the strong winds blew them away from herself and her declining, if not already gone, ally.

Then suddenly, the pain stopped, and Elsa drew in a new breath, but it was not in relief, but grief. Exhausted from the devastating influx of pain, her body crumpled up, till she was also flat on the ground like Jack. Her eyes welled up against her will, and the rest of her body could not move. It was then she felt most keenly the departure of her icy protector.

* * *

Fire is an excellent servant, but a bad master, they say. But fire in the service of depraved masters couldn't be much better.

The snow giant had been a curved ball – Shen hadn't known the ice witch could create life, of all things. As he had fled the ice beast, he had murmured grumbles against life and how it had chosen to put him in an Arena with an _ice mutant_ of all people. It had only irked him further that the blocky beast had caught up with him in seconds. The creature had picked him up in a vice-like grip, lifting him off the ground and swinging him about by the feet. Shen had writhed and shouted, but the giant snow creature had made no mind to his words, only morosely telling him to leave its mistress be.

But unfortunately for the snow creature, it had chosen to stand itself on top of a glittering metal plate. Even though disorientated from being hung and swung upside down, Shen had recognized at once that that was a tribute starting plate.

He had dug into his pockets, fishing out the remote controller that he had coerced from the District 2 girl the day before. It had been programmed to detonate the mines around the old food pyramid, but with whatever he had known about explosive controls, Shen had managed to reset it such that it would set off any mine within a ten feet radius.

And that had been exactly what he did.

When the plate below it had exploded, the ice monster had howled in both pain and fury. The impact of the detonation had caused a visible splinter right through the creature's torso, making the ice being groan and growl at the one at fault.

Having picked himself off the ground hastily, Shen had managed to speedily reset the control, before cutting a tear into the aluminum can of gun-powder. He had then tossed the can at the ice beast, then slammed the button again. This time, the series of explosions had sent the beast knocked the beast well and over, engulfing it in flames. The creature roared as its massive form began to shrink, its huge icy mass melting away, while a scream from its creator rang out through the Arena, echoing its loss and defeat.

The white-haired boy had wiped the soot from his lip, picked his sword from the snow, watching with grim satisfaction that the bothersome beast was now taken care of. Perhaps now if Fate would be so kind, he had better rid the Arena of the real monster.

While making his way back through the ice maze, braving the torrents beating against his skin, Shen spotted a metal canister lying in the snow. Bending over and brushing off the frost, he found that it was a blow torch, possibly once in the possession of the ice witch. It was an odd thought indeed, that she had carried on her person the very thing that could destroy her.

Using the metal claws attached to the gauntlet on his right hand, he sliced open the can along its rim. The liquid inside was colorless and thin, smelling thickly of alcohol. A smile crept on his face. _Butanol._

Tilting his blade downwards at an angle, he poured the liquid down the steel, careful not to let any part of it touch his skin. Once the blade was coated entirely, he threw the canister to the ground, wielding the sword again with the gauntlet-covered hand, for protection.

It hadn't been hard to find his target – simply trace the origins of the weak whimpering. She was literally lying in a pile of ice shards, next to the lifeless form of her ally, bawling her eyes out and pulling her hair.

At the sound of ice crunching below his boots, the ice witch glanced up. Her expression was worn, but hardly subdued. When he swung the sword down at her, she lifted her hands, gripping the blade and stopping its descent. By the time she realized that there was a strange transparent liquid dripping down her arms, it was too late.

He snapped the metal on his fingers, sparking the butanol. Like candles on a cake, the entire sword burst into flame.

The mutant lurched back, shrieking as she withdrew her hands. He noted how she stared at her scorched palms in disbelief, then how she clenched and unclenched them, as if trying to will ice over them. But the palms stayed burnt and frostless. The witch was incapacitated.

When her glowing blue eyes met his red ones, they were full of fear. He didn't consider himself particularly sadistic, but he couldn't help feeling extremely pleased about it. The lovely, the awe-inspiring, the all-powerful elemental was literally sitting at his feet, feeble and petrified, while he - the weakling, the weirdo, the outcast - triumphed.

For once in his life, Shen felt, albeit strangely, happy.

He lifted the flaming weapon overhead, poised to smite the girl, only to be interrupted by the bite of cool steel in his stomach.

There was a hiss in his ear, "I believe I hadn't finished the job last time."

* * *

As easily as it had slid in, the sword in Hans' hands slid out the boy's abdomen.

The District 1 boy was obviously in shock. His grip on his own curved blade had loosened, and the flaming weapon fell harmlessly to the snow, flickering in the ice. He stared at the redhead with complete incredulity, one of his hands groping at the hole in his torso as he staggered back. The sensation must have been a familiar one - the last time Hans had shot a bolt at the Career, it had pierced exactly the same spot.

"This time die, won't you?" Hans told him coldly, before shoving him to the ground, letting him leak away into his own puddle of blood.

He wasn't as skilled as the Careers when it came to swordsmanship, but he was definitely much better at handling it compared to a crossbow. It was fortunate of him that the Gamemakers had decided to watch his training session after all, even though they did give him a pathetic score of eight.

Kicking snow of the flaming blade and keeping his own in his hand, he approached the blonde girl. She must have heard him speak, but she made no sign of acknowledgment. Her eyes were glued to her hands, red and swollen.

"Hey." He tried to sound gentle as he crouched down beside her. Her gaze flickered briefly to him, then dropping back her hands. He took a look at them himself and cringed. It wasn't as bad as it could have been - it didn't even draw blood - but he knew the blisters would not heal easily.

"Put some snow on it." She glanced at him, mystified. "It'll help. Trust me."

She did as he had told her, and then it struck him how odd it must have been for her to scoop off ice from the ground, like ordinary people. Having spent her entire life in snow, she might have never been burnt before.

As she plunged her finger into the snowdrift, Hans noted the tear stains across her cheeks, and also a swallowed sob that she made. It was then that he noted that tears were not out of pain, but for the half-frozen body lying a few feet away.

It was the 'playboy' - the District 10 fellow with all the sponsors. From his angle, it could be observed that there was a deep stabbing wound in his side and in his shoulder - possibly the blow that killed him. Hans recalled seeing the brunette boy at the ice castle on the day of the attack. He had no idea why he had been there, or why he had even been with Elsa, but they must have formed an alliance, while he himself had been bleeding to slow and sure death on the mountain's peak.

Look like they had swapped roles.

"There's nothing you can do, Elsa," he whispered to her as kindly as he could. Her nerves must have been frayed to the last knot, considering how badly she trembled. An ice mutant shouldn't be able to get that cold, right?

"Shen?" The voice was came from far away, and one that the redhead was well-acquainted with.

"Elsa," Hans spoke to the wild-eyed girl in a low, but urgent voice. "We need to go."

She looked up towards him, then her gaze dropped back to the snow. She seemed unsure, almost guilty.

As much as he would have preferred to give her the time to grieve properly, he knew that the District 1 girl would arrive soon. She would then see the gap in Shen's torso, the blood-stained sword in his grip and put two and two together.

"Can you walk?" He asked her.

Elsa didn't respond immediately, so he was about to repeat the question when she shook her head. "M-my ankle," she stuttered, her voice weak from screaming, as she gestured feebly to her foot.

"Shen! Where are you?" Gothel was still way off course, but she was bound to hit this area eventually.

"Okay." Hans inhaled deeply, forcing himself to think to rationally. He needed to, for both of them. "Okay. This is what we'll do." His tone became business-like. "I'm going to have to carry you. You -" he held out the hilt of his sword out to her "-are going to carry this. Can you do that?"

She shook her head more vigorously this time. "I can't," she told him tearfully, "I can't. I'll freeze-"

"No, you won't." He disagreed, trying to take one of her arms only for her to snatch it away.

"I will." Elsa insisted, hugging her knees, turning away from him. "You should go."

Didn't she get it? This rule change - this opportunity was there for them, from the story that he had built. Why was she throwing it away?

"Elsa, please," he begged, but she would not be stirred, stubbornly refusing to even look at him.

She ordered, folding her injured hands towards her chest, "Go!"

He felt a chilly breeze sweep past him at that moment. Her hands or no hands, she was right. She was a hazard, and perhaps not quite worth the risk.

He could, actually. He could run off her and leave her in the razor-claws of Gothel. But when he had heard the announcement, he had abandoned his initial plans and returned. Even now, he was putting himself at risk just to plead her to let him save her life. And she was not going to throw all his effort out of the window.

"Please, Elsa." He pulled himself as close as he could, till his lips were just above her ear. He cupped a hand by the side of his mouth just as he whispered the words, so that the cameras would have no record of what he uttered. "For Anna."

As he expected, it had taken immediate effect. The blonde had stiffened at once, before sighing and dropping her arms. Shifting herself to face him, she informed him very seriously, "I'll still give you major frostbite."

"No, you won't." In his pockets, he whipped out the other gift - the other advantage that he had found from the '12' bag on the table. He placed them in Elsa's hands, a small smile on his lips. "To think, after all these years, I finally know what these are for."

The blonde was dumbfounded as she examined the pair of arm-length gloves he had given her. He could read conflict in her visage, so he said, "We have to hurry."

Hesitantly, she pulled the gloves over her hands. They fit over her fingers snugly, as if they were made exactly for her.

He handed her the sword hilt. "Let's go."

Elsa took the weapon, hugging it to her chest. When he nodded expectantly at her, she swung an arm over his neck, before he scooped her up from the snow. She wasn't very heavy, and he was able to carry her easily away from the ruins. She was cold, but everything around him was, so it was easily to shrug it off as he brought them towards the Autumn Quarter.

It must have looked pretty romantic on screen; the star-crossed lovers of District 12 finally reunited, and with the opportunity to stay that way. But Hans couldn't help feeling the effect must have been slightly ruined by how the blonde kept peering over his shoulder, back to where the District 10 boy lay. And even though he was already doing his best to suppress his eight year-old self, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.

* * *

"Shen?"

Focus. Get the white-haired creep, and get out.

"Shen! Where are you?"

Don't go back. Don't look back. Don't even _think_ about it.

"You know, I can't find you in all this frost on my own, White-wash."

There wasn't anything she could do to do bring _her_ back. Saving Rapunzel wasn't going to change the past. Just focus.

"Shen!"

But to save Shen? He deserved to be beaten into bloody pulp, or, since she didn't want to risk further ruining her manicure, have his entails removed by gutting. It was he who destroyed her life, he who took what was most precious to her. What _had been_ most precious to her.

Gothel halted her steps, pursing her lips together. She pressed the cool steel of her bare knife gently to her cheek unconsciously, taking deep breaths. Why should she bother herself was the mental-case? Why should she risk her own chances of winning to give him a second chance?

Deep down inside, she knew the answer. She still trudged through the snow, calling out his name, because she had the unfortunate affliction known as empathy.

_No!_ Not with the psycho himself - goodness,_ no!_ She was better than that. She actually empathized with, as strange as it sounded, his parents.

When she had presented the evidence of their son's carnage to his parents, they had been beyond horrified. But instead of feeling smug that her plan had worked, she had felt only bitterness. She had never seen parents who actually cared about getting their kids fixed. Had she been in his shoes, her own - and fortunately late – father would have been flogged her to the bone and thrown her out on the street. Her similarly dead mother would have smiled, given her a cookie and a glass of warm milk, and then have her stabbed in her sleep.

Shen had no idea how lucky he was.

"SHEN! IF I DON'T FIND YOU IN - oh."

It turned out that he was at the site of her last big battle, so she had just walked one whole circle for nothing. The corpse of the District 10 had not moved since she had last seen him, only now he had been abandoned, and slowly being buried by falling flakes. Ten feet away, her district mate was lying flat on his back, hissing curses while attempting to plug the leak near his navel. He tried to sit up when he caught sight of her, only to slump back down.

"Oh, stop that," Gothel snapped at him. "You're just making it worse." He glared at her for the unwanted input, but she brushed it off. Acrimony from Shen was as common as light from the sun.

She went over to the District 10 boy's body first. Bending down, she grabbed the fabric of his jacket and ripped strips of cloths from it. From close quarters, she noted that the flush that he had during her battle had been replaced by a paper-pale countenance, complete bluish lips and … a white lock of hair.

She reached out to finger it, finding to her surprise that that it wasn't covered with snow, but rather natural colouration. She hadn't noticed that about him while fighting. How odd.

Grabbing the rags in her hand, she now approached Shen, who immediately attempted to edge himself away her, only to clutch on his wound and grimace. She rolled her eyes, dropping to her knees on the snow and ordering, "Hands off."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't need your help."

Impatiently - "So you'd rather bleed to death?"

He let his bloody hands drop with much reluctance. It was then that she noticed that one of his hands had a wonderfully crafted steel glove over it, with pretty claws attached over the fingers. Quite a neat weapon, but hardly fit for wound dressing.

His red eyes never left her while she dressed him. She didn't bother to be gentle, and his cries of indignation were blown away by the freezing winter winds. Gothel mechanically knotted the makeshift bandages together, refusing to even give him eye contact. She was going to work with him, but that didn't meant she needed to nice about it.

When she had knotted the last of binds together, she told him, "Get up. We need to move."

She then pushed herself off the ground, about to stand, when the boy tackled her to the ground. With surprise on his side, he pressed his knees down on her elbows, whiled the rest of his body locked her down on the snowdrift.

Gothel was broader-built and the stronger of the two, so technically, he shouldn't be able to keep her down with his puny weight, but he had one thing in his favour; the fancy metal glove of his were had her in chokehold. If she resisted, he would dig his claws into her throat and yank out her windpipe.

So, she could only curse, "You blithering moron! We can both win-"

"We?" He spluttered in rage, his teeth and his fists clenching simultaneously. Gothel winced when she felt the claws biting into her flesh. Vehemently, the white-haired boy declared, "I would rather _die_ than share the victor's crown with you."

She tried shifting her arms, to make a grab at his own throat or her own knives, but he plunged darts into her arms - directly on pressure points, she realized to her chargrin, when her hands flopped uselessly to the ground.

"You-" his eyes had gone crazed "-you _ruined_ my life. You have to pay."

"I have, haven't I?" Gothel retorted, her own blood starting boil under her terror. Her own tone was scathing, though there were tears in her eyes. "You took the most important thing in the world from me. Wasn't that enough?"

"The most important thing?" He made a harsh, cheerless laugh. With a shake of his head, he told her, his words dripping with malice. "We both now that isn't true."

She wasn't sure what he meant, till she felt his steely grip shift from her neck to just below her chin. She inhaled sharply, panic coursing swiftly through her brains.

"Look at it this way; I'm merely taking back what you have stolen," Shen said with a shrug. She felt the edge of his talons sink into the skin just behind her right jaw. "You have no idea how much the nose cost my father. And skin. And the cheekbones."

Gothel bit her tongue, holding back any desperate pleas that she could have. And she had a lot. At the corner of her eyes, she watched, powerless as he began the slow carving, his cool determination only marred by cruel delight.

Then - "Leave her alone!"

_Clang!_

* * *

Slapping the District 1 boy with the frying pan didn't have the desired 'instant-coma' effect, but it was enough to knock him off Gothel while he grabbed the bruise at his head. Rapunzel noted then that he had a bunch of rags tied around his stomach, so she kicked him there, giving him no chance to go for any of his weapons. He reeled back, releasing the black-haired girl from his hold altogether while occupied in his own auguish.

The blonde ran over to Gothel, crouching by her side. "Are you alright?" she asked. Glancing at the knives in the elder girl's arms and the incisions along her face, she supposed that the question answered itself. "Um, okay, okay. Don't worry I'll-" she swallowed, slightly unwilling to say the words. But Gothel had probably witnessed the whole mutant thing already, right? "-I'll heal it."

The other girl nodded without probing deeper. Instead, she went straight to more important things. "Help me take out the knives."

Rapunzel felt rather queasy at the instruction, but seeing that Shen was starting to pick up himself again, she did what was asked with a gulp. Gothel got to her feet at once, flicking the blood off her arms, as if was just dust. Turning to the white-haired boy struggling to rise, she whacked him in the abdomen with her sole, sending him back flat on the snow. Before he could move again, she brought a foot firmly onto his throat, not letting it move even when the boy tried to push it off. Her other foot she placed over the metal glove on Shen's right hand. Rapunzel swallowed, involuntarily taking a step back, but she couldn't rip her eyes away from the moment.

"I was willing to work with you, jerk!" Gothel was fuming. "I was willing to give you a chance -"

"I take no pity from you," Shen spat back at her. Rapunzel could detect no fear in him, even when the black-haired girl stamped her foot harder onto his neck.

"We could have gone home!" Gothel continued, her own anger rising. "Your parents-"

"My parents -" a harsh gasp "- _hate_ me."

Gothel just shook her head at him, half-disbelieving, half-disgusted. "It really is impossible for you to even understand love, isn't it?" She snorted, sighing in exasperation. "All that love, all that care, all that compassion, wasted on a miserable cretin such as you."

She lifted the flap of her jacket, and Rapunzel was stunned to note the impressive collection of projectiles she kept beneath it. Removing a thin poniard, she told Rapunzel without looking at her, "Shade your eyes, dearie. This is going to be-" she rubbed some of the blood off the trail below her earlobe, examining it rather distastefully, "-_ugly_."

Uncertain, the blonde spun around. A second later, she was glad that she did. She never took Shen for the screaming kind of person, but apparently Gothel was skilled in using knives in many ways far worse than in throwing. Rapunzel cupped her ears, her shoulder hunching up and her knees buckling as she tried to drown her own revulsion in her palms.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Rapunzel heard the shrieks descend to a whimper, and against her better judgment, she took a peek behind.

She was aware that there was blood and ...something else, spilling out from Shen's lower body, but her vision focused on Gothel, who was hovering over the other boy's convulsing form, coolly tilting her head from side to side while aiming the knife tip under the boy's chin. Shen's eyes were still open wide, and he was very much conscious.

Rapunzel was starting to have second thoughts about coming to Gothel's rescue. But maybe the thing that stopped her from running off then and there were the three words the black-haired girl whispered to her District mate.

There was no taunting cheerfulness, just impassivity, like a judge passing a sentence. "For my daughter."

With that said, Gothel slowly slid the metal in and out of his larynx, causing him to gag and splutter, his arms flailing about against his will. Rapunzel spun her head away immediately, shutting her eyes and plugging her ears, hoping she would escape this event without remembering any details of Shen drowning in his own fluids.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of retching. It was one of those sudden sort of awakenings - the kind that you had right after having a nightmare. Or after having defibrillators pressed to your chest.

With a sharp gasp, Jack sat himself up, sucking in deep breaths, as if he had stopped breathing a moment ago.

He heard the retching stop, replaced instead by a screech.

He turned his head to the direction of that horrid piercing sound, wincing at when he discovered how stiff his neck felt. In a matter of fact, his entire body felt stiff. And cold. Definitely cold.

The noise-maker was a girl with a headful of red curls and bright blue eyes, and she was holding a hand over her mouth. Pointing at him almost accusingly, she exclaimed, "You're alive!"

He was going to demand of her why he shouldn't be, then memories came flooding back in. _The Hunger Games, the Arena, Bloodbath, battles, blood, Elsa..._

Elsa. He must have been awake all along after all, because he somehow recalled her weeping over his fallen form, before leaving in the arms of her District mate - her supposed 'boyfriend'.

It was like a hammer-blow to the chest, and he had to set his jaw hard so as not to show his disappointment.

Elsa left him behind, not the other way round.

When he became aware that the District 5 girl - her name was Merida, right? - was pointing an arrow at him, he told her off snippily, "Oh, put that down."

"Why?" she demanded at once, not lowering her weapon. "You were involved in some double-crossing scheme involving your fancy armbands." So she had noticed. Well, she was sharp, he would give her that. "You don't have your weapon right now." True, true, it was still strewn somewhere in the snow. "And this is the Hunger Games, and you're not from my District."

She made excellent points on all counts, which worked in his disfavor. Wilting second by second under her threatening glare, he noted that she squatting by the pile of ... was that the District 1 guy?

Jack slapped a hand over his own mouth. Now he completely understood the retching. "Whoa, who cut the-"

"No idea," Merida cut in, drawing back the bowstring tighter. "Stop stalling and give an answer."

Trying to bite back the bile rising up his throat, Jack noted that the jacket on the District 1 boy - or whatever was left of him - had been half way through being yanked off his arms.

"Were you trying to steal his coat?" he asked her, with a quizzical look.

Merida turned beetroot red, her fingers gripping tighter on the fletching of her arrow. "Is it a crime to be cold? And besides, yours is tatters."

She didn't have a jacket, so perhaps procuring one off a dead body wasn't that bad a plan. But she wouldn't really need one when she left the Cornucopia grounds. Everywhere else was warmer than here, so a little cold could be tolerated. Everywhere but...

"You're going to the Winter Quarter, aren't you?"

She frowned at him. "If I am?"

"I spent a good deal of time there in the beginning in the Games in Winter. I can be your guide. Water. Caves. Food."

She scrunched her face up, considering his words, but not convinced.

"There are some nasty wolves there too." He jerked his head at his wolf-bite wound. "Don't want to fight that alone, do you?"

Merida scoffed, nodding at her bow. "I'm more than capable with dealing with wolves."

"In packs?"

She fell silent.

Jack was grinning inwardly, adding slyly, "I've done shepherding, by the way. Fought them by the tens before. Serious. It sucked."

She took about a good minute to brood over this, before lowering the bow. He let out the full visible grin.

"This doesn't mean we're allies," she muttered rudely to him, hopping to her feet.

"Sure, we're not," he answered in far more agreeable tone, still smiling like a Cheshire cat. Stretching his frozen muscles, he finally managed to get to his feet. Now that the threat of harm was gone, he could take a better look at the redhead. Her left arm appeared to be crooked - possibly dislocated - and observing how she unconsciously tightened her elbows to her stomach, he guessed that she might have hurt a rib or two.

"What happened to your hair?"

He gazed at her in surprise, before starting to examine her hair. The curls around a large gnash on her head seem to have been stuck together in clumps of brown-red. "You should worry about your own."

"No, yours is turning white."

"What? That's rid-"

He broke off. In the periphery of his vision, he noted that there was a tint of white in his bangs. Thinking it to be snow, he ran his fingers through it, but the white didn't come off. Picking up one of the smoother, reflective ice shards from the ground, he examined his hair once again to find that the redhead was true. There it was, staring right at him in the face - a single, white lock.

He couldn't think of any logical explanation, except one that was intuitively illogical. "She struck me with ice."

"The Snow Queen? She did that?" He heard Merida ask in amazement. "What's it? A curse or something?"

"No, of course not," he dismissed that immediately. "It's just-it's just-"

Then he remembered how the sharp cold rammed against his chest, sending chills all over his body, causing his body to crumble. He held a hand over it, while a story came to mind. "Last time, she said that she stuck her sister's head, and froze her mind. I think this is something like that but-" he swallowed, fisting his own shirt, trying to understand it himself, "-I think she hit my heart."

* * *

**S/N:**

**I'm not sorry for implying that Astrid died last chapter. Okay...maybe a little. But if you recall my exact words, I said that 'Astrid's...yeah. Well, ****as much as Dagur is.'****Get my drift? Of course, Dagur fell back into death's claws soon after escaping, but whatever. **

**Oh yeah, Marshmallow's pretty much dead too...if he was alive in the first place. It's bad enough I have Toothless in the Games.**

**As mentioned before, there are two things that Gothel hold most dear. The first her looks, and the second has now been revealed. It would be explained later. If anyone of you are smacking your foreheads and going 'cliché much?', well, think about it – her full title is MOTHER Gothel. Even if she isn't Rap's mum here, I didn't want to take that from her identity.**

**Obviously, as many of you have guessed before, Ralph is Thresh. **

**Hans is back! And so's Jack.**

**Shen's death has to be one of the most terrible of all that I've written. Hope you guys got the implications, because I'm not adding any more details to it.**

**So role call!**

**Death Recap:**

**1 - Shen**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Dagur, Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**6 - Turbo, Taffyta**

**7 – Male &amp; Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno**

**9 - Nameless Boy, Nameless Girl**

**10 – Toothiana**

**11 - Vanellope**

**Remaining Players**

**1 - Gothel**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup**

**3 - Hiro**

**5 - Merida**

**8 - Rapunzel**

**10 - Jack**

**11 - Ralph**

**12 - Elsa, Hans**

**Known Alliances :**

**Team Vikings: Astrid and Hiccup (&amp; Toothless) **

**Team Starcrossed: Hans &amp; Elsa**

**Team Tangled: Gothel &amp; Rapunzel**

**Team Outliers: Merida &amp; Jack**

**Metal Band Band:**

**Hiro - 3 bands (Hiccup gave his back to Hiro)**

**Jack**

**Rapunzel**

**If you look at the alliance list, you'd realize that all of them have changed - hence the title of this chapter.**

**With the Feast over, I'd like to know, what was your favorite fight/event/death? My personal favourites are Hiro vs. Hiccup, Rapunzel being attacked by a revived Dagur, and Gothel killing Shen. **

**Up Next: Featuring Aftermaths - Backstories, Wound-fixing and the general lost and gain of Hope. **

**A/N:**

**Sorry about the really late update guys. Writing the Feast arch has been killing me. After this chapter, I fully intend to go back to writing 5000-7000 words chapters again. **

**Oh, last week I said that Chap 34 broke the review per chapter record. This week well, Chap 35 broke that record again. I'm glad to note that people are really hyped about the whole Feast! Yay. But yeah now time for boring stuff like relationship building, bonding recovering blah blah then finally boom etc.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**the fam man: Wow. Really? Me? Thanks, dude. Hope the speculations worked out... Or maybe didn't. Thanks once again.**

**waveringshadow: The great thing (and worst thing) about Gothel is her lack of backstory in canon, which leaves me to try to shape her in anyway Iike. How I post regularly? I write about an hour before I sleep every night, I write on the buses, and on weekends I sit down and write for like 3-5hours straights. It's very unhealthy actually, but I have deadlines for this story, so yeah.**

**hiddeninthelibrary: All's well. Astrid and Jack are still living. Sorry for the trick...a little. Rapunzel killed someone and unkilled him too, but she's not going to let herself off that easy either. Hiro needs a comforter alright. He's gonna be a very guilt-wrecked guy.**

**Guest: Chill, man, Jack ain't dead...yet. Will he and Elsa survive? Maybe, maybe not. Will they end up together? Um...do you mean that they end up dead together or in a relationship? Because option1 is more likely than option2.**

**minerbuilder12: Hahaha, I would argue that Elsa isn't more powerful than Jack in movies - it's just that both of them have very different ways of manifesting them, and that Elsa has far less control over hers, which is why hers always ends up harmful. The effects of Elsa's ice blast on Jack will be revealed only later in the future, but I will say upfront that the results of that effect is unique to Jack and Jack only.**

**MissiriKoharehn: Yep, your assumption was right. I'm just mean. Come to think about...Turbo is - I mean - was quite remarkable in his escapes with death, wasn't he? But in the movies, he did survive being eaten by a bug.**

**Booksaremylife: There will be a sequel. Odds of Five is based on The Hunger Games and a bit of Catching Fire. The sequel will probably be an overlay of Catching Fire and Mockingjay. There may even be another one for the last part, like a Mockingjay part 2 or something. My summer is different from yours so I'm not sure if the dates are right, but if this story goes beyond July, I will have to hiatus it for three months, which sucks.**

**M.A. KH: Ha, Astrid's doesn't die. Still plenty of angst in the future. **

**Breathes-the-Stars: You know, when this fix started, I was actually really neutral towards Gothel, to the point that I wanted to kill her earlier. Well... that didn't happen after all. I'm really glad that you love this story! Ha, I love it too. I read my own story a lot (and cringe at my own grammar). Don't worry - there would be a sequel after this story, so stuff to look forward too? (I'm looking forward to the sequel too, but then, I have to write it...) I'm really really glad that you enjoy the story that much!**

**Awsomaniatica: Hmmm...yeah, the last chapter's intensity beats this chapter's, but I think this chappie had harsher death scenes (except Dagur. He got off easy.) As for our favorite block of walking ice, ...poor Marshy. Yeah... As you could probably note, the entire alliance structure has changed, so everything is gonna go madder. Have fun reading!**

**yo I cry: Cheer up! I was just a mean kid. Hiccstrid lives - yay! **

**Maggietheawesome: Marshamallow's your favorite? Oh, um. Oops. Rapunzel's power is her healing hair, but when she broke Dagur's neck with her hair, it wasn't using her mutant ability. It would be like Elsa using her hands to strangle someone to death vs Elsa freezing a person to death. Hehe, just let Hans die? Can't let that happen now - I've worked too hard to bring him back. Home POVs would be really interesting, but it won't fit in with the story, and there's still loads of storyline to come, so I can't fit it in. Sorry bout that. And Toothless kinda of accidentally ruined stuff too, but it's not his fault. He's a dragon! He can't speak Panem-ese!**

**WarriorQueen 14: The Odds are really really in Hiccup's favour. Girl of his dreams, and a dragon, and he has his backpack too! Cool stuff. Yeah, everyone gets stabbed - strangulation would be more creative, but I didn't really like writing about it. Haha, sorry if Jack's 'powers' end up being a let down. **

**BurningMoon101: Oh, there will be a sequel (see my answer Bookaremylife). I can't say anything about it though, not without giving away stuff that will happen at the end of this story.**

**mackjoyo35: You're freaking out? YEEEESSSSSSSS!**

**Nightingale82: People in the Capitol were probably were probably shocked, but the tributes were kinda occupied in trying to live. I'm really sorry about Marshmallow...yeah. Toothless seems like he's sticking with Hiccup after all.**

**SmilingStarcat: yeah, not a lot of people died. Out of 24 kids so far... Only 14 people have died. I will be honest and say that I've been delaying deaths because I'm obsessed with character development, and because I'm cheating (Duh. I don't actually want to kill my favourite characters.) The death count will start plunging more in the future. Astrid has been revived (how convenient, right?), but she has hardly been redeemed (at least in the eyes of certain tributes...). Jack's 'powers' are not going to be that great a factor in the Games, I'll be honest on that too, because the point of him getting struck is actually to do more with Elsa than himself. (PS Elsa is really overpowered, and your point on the Gamemakers is excellent.) there was some Hans and Ralph in this chappie, so I hope that it helped to tide you over. Thanks for reviewing once again! **

**Well, till next time guys! Bye!**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **


	38. Chapter 36: Aftermaths

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Part 36: Aftermaths

* * *

**Capitol – Game Control**

"Three people died. How unremarkable. Who'd go before we start the family interviews, do you think?"

He didn't get an immediate reply, which led to him swivel around on his raised seat to the soldier cum auditor who shared the space on the dais with him. Her hands were gripping onto the rail as she gazed down to the holographic three-dimensional map in the middle of the control centre.

Just as he was about to repeat the question, Calhoun demanded, clear emphasis and weight in every single word, "Did you actually allow two victors?"

"Indeed, I did." Pitch answered her quiet calmly.

"You're dead."

The Head Gamemaker quirked a brow at her. "Thank you."

"Lotso's going to eat you whole," she added morosely, just as a short, sandy-haired Avox approached Pitch, holding a tray with a slip of paper. The Head Gamemaker nipped the envelope up with a pair of his wiry fingers, dismissing the Avox with a wave of his other hand and proceeding to read it. Then he groaned.

"Told you so," the sergeant said, not so much smugly as matter-of-factly.

"Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone," he told her sardonically, rising from his ebony seat, his black robes flowing ominously behind him whilst he stepped off the dais, heading for the exit.

Sgt. Calhoun watched his lithe form disappear down the corridor, before turning her attentions back to the Games.

Unlike Pitch, she didn't view this year's cast of tributes as 'extraordinary' or 'interesting' – they were just dangerous. All these kids were way too deviant from the ordinary, frightened breed that Panem usually presented. A rebellious little redhead who was much too lucky with her friendships and her bow. A scrawny non-Career boy who trained a mutation – well, at least they found out what became of that dragon. A mutant with healing powers, and so forth. The soldier pulled a face. This Game was just so full of …surprises. And she detested surprises, because they always meant that things would spiral out of control, and there was nothing she hated more than that.

Grimly, her gaze flitted to the display board showing the remaining ten tributes. The board had the faces of the children, with their names and ages, as well as their districts. Besides that, it also showed their health statuses, in the form of glucose levels, heart rates, even healing rates – courtesy of the microchip injected in each of their left arms.

"Sorry, M'am?" The Gamemakers automatically consulted her on matters when Pitch was unavailable, even though technically she was supposed to be just reviewing the control session and not interfering with gameplay.

But her years in the Game Control had also given her a reputation amongst the Gamemakers, and they sought out her expertise without beckoning. Perhaps another reason could also be that between her and Pitch, she was less imposing.

Her voice was crisp and acrid. "What."

Well, not that much _less_ imposing.

The official that had called for her swallowed, before speaking, "The ice mutant – should we eliminate her?"

_Ah, yes._ The biggest troublemaker of them all - a volunteer, a starling, a mutant and half of a star-crossed tragedy. It was be so much easier if she were dead now. Curse Black and his stupid meddling.

"Not yet," she answered with much reluctance. "Rules are rules, and her victim-" she nodded to the display "-hasn't flat-lined." Her forehead creased as she scrutinized the board. The District 10 boy's heart rate seemed to fluctuate unevenly, as if he was slowly being smothered to death. "_Yet._ Keep a careful eye on him. If he dies because of the ice blast, she goes down."

"Yes, m'am."

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

If Tadashi were still here, if he had been watching, what would he have said?

Nothing. His mouth would have fallen open to an 'o', his eyes gone round and he would have been completely aghast. He would have been repulsed and horrified by the little monster his kid brother had turned into.

Hiro sighed as he stepped over a protruding oak maple root, adjusting the strap of his backpack. His eyes flickered constantly between the sheet in his hands and his surroundings, before he chose to make his next move. His steps were quick, but they were heavy with guilt.

Hiccup was right – what he had just done that morning would have been something Tadashi had _never_ in a million years wanted. His brother was always all about helping people – that's why when they had given him the job round in the 73rd Hunger Games, he had been paralyzed by the slaughter. His heart that had been so pure and good couldn't take the carnality and gore. Tadashi had spent too much time trying to save the lives of the people around him, and that's why he had failed the real mission.

With his brother's legacy in mind, Hiro had bargained for the lives of twelve, and in return he would strive to complete the job his brother was meant to do. The people on the other side were too wary – twelve would be far too obvious, and besides, it would be way too expensive. So they had given him five. That had seemed like such a small number before, but now it seemed too big.

The whole plan had fallen apart: Jack and Rapunzel hadn't had even the chance to reach the rendezvous point, and from the little he had managed to see, both had ended up being attacked by Careers. Where the dead? Were they one of the three cannon shots that were heard half an hour after the Feast began? He couldn't know till the sun went down and the death reap showed up. Even if they still lived, he had no way of knowing where they were.

As for Hiccup, his armband was one of the three that now dangled around the black-haired boy's skinny wrist. His salvation was lost.

Stopping straight in front of a mossy old wall, just as his map had directed, he began running his fingers along it, feeling for that tell-tale etching. He found it after scraping away some of the rotting ferns. Accordingly, he removed one of the arm bands and slid it into the hole.

He heard a click and hiss, and pushed through the door, entering yet another crevice. While fiercely wiping the tears that have inexplicably sprung in his eyes, he hoped to himself that this one would have a water source – he was really thirsty.

The area for the blindspot was a pleasant one, with many grand maples towering above him and a soft layer of leaves beneath his feet. But no rivers, no lakes, no water.

Groaning, he set himself his down on the forest floor, removing his backpack before reclining himself against a trunk. Digging into his pockets, he found the metal tube he was looking for. Turning the cylindrical object over, he jabbed the button at its base. The light on the top of the object flickered to life at once, then died off just as quickly.

Hiro shook his head. Good thing he got his backpack after all.

Dropping the cylinder on his lap, he grabbed his bag, dragging over and unzipping it. He pillaged it contents, finding his fingers stiffening when he spotted the muttation manual. The same thing happened at the sight of his megabot - the smiley face attached of the chain still had blood smeared on it. Even without its controller, it still looked deadly.

Forcing himself to ignore these things, he removed the new set of batteries from the bag. Picking up the metal tube again, he flipped open the hatch at the bottom, letting the dead batteries fall to the ground. He shoved the fresh set inside and closed the hatch again. Pressing the switch rather impatiently, he let out an exclamation of triumph when the light emerged from the top of the tube, forming a green rectangular holographic screen right before him.

He leaned back, waiting for the encryption on the screen to appear before making his move. Cracking his knuckles, he placed his fingers on the screen, opening up a virtual keyboard, before beginning to enter a code of his own.

Like a bulldozer in the forest, the firewalls were rammed down in that instant, and Hiro couldn't help grinning when he watched the mess in the screen vanish, replaced by the ever accommodating question – 'how can I help you?'

Tapping his answer in the virtual keyboard, the screen fizzled out for a moment or two, which might have spooked him severely, if the same hadn't happened for the last two times he did this. He waited quietly, staring down at the silver bands around his wrist.

His grin became a bitter frown. He rather doubted he was going to have the time or ability to save anyone by now. With only so many tributes left in the Games, things were bound to plummet into full chaos any second. If he had chosen to trust Hiccup instead of trying to strangle him to death, maybe he could save lives. Help people, like Tadashi.

Well, that opportunity was long gone, but maybe he could still complete this mission.

When the screen was back in action, it displayed a new array of symbols, rows and rows of it, just filling the screen like a wave of green. To an ordinary person, it would have seemed that the encryption had taken over the hack again. But when it came to Hiro, it was a gold mine.

He kept his eyes glued to the seemingly meaningless patterns on the screen, using his fingers to scroll down the page whenever he had finished absorbing the images.

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

First thing after they left the Cornucopia grounds, Rapunzel had used the remaining gold strands of the heavy braid to heal both their wounds. Gothel had been suitably impressed by her abilities, and had been indeed very relieved when the lacerations around and on her face had vanished.

Following that, they had started out into the Spring Quarter. Dusk had come on rather quickly, and at that point of time they still haven't found a suitable place for the night. Just as the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, Gothel had discovered an etching on the stone face of a cliff, hidden cunningly behind a curtain of moss. It was a perfect circle.

"You don't happen to know what it is, do you dearie?" Rapunzel couldn't fail to note the expectation in the tone.

The girl blinked, briefly thrown in a loop by the familiar carving. Stepping forward, she ran her fingers over the circular mark, still astounded. With a doubtful expression, she pulled the metallic band of her left hand, and slotted it into the hole. There was a click, and a hiss, and part of the wall sunk into the cliff, revealing an entrance.

"Well," Gothel commented, sounding much like someone has pieced together a puzzle, "that makes sense now."

The enclave beyond the secret door was much like the cove in the Summer Quarter, except that the waterfall was much taller, and the lake was much smaller. The ground was covered with sweet-smelling grass, so soft and comfortable that Rapunzel decided to just strip her boots off and go barefoot, to which Gothel rolled her eyes. It was fortunate that they managed to gather some fruit and herbs before coming in, because much like the cove again, there was nothing edible within. In every other aspect however, the accommodations were as luxurious.

"How on Earth did you ever come across such a handy armband, dearie?" Gothel asked while they set down their belongings.

Rapunzel hadn't meant to tell her everything, but the elder girl was very skilled in interrogating while sounding perfectly innocuous. So all the details came spilling out; Toothiana, meeting Hiro, allying with Hiccup, the cove, and even Toothless. She even found herself talking about the armband alliance and how it fell apart during in the Cornucopia when Hiro changed the plan.

"Well, I think the explanation is pretty simple, darling," Gothel said, while they set up the fire pit. "The two boy was never meant have that arm band, and three boy wanted to get it back."

"His name is Hiccup," Rapunzel found herself adding in a low voice.

Gothel made an exaggerated groan. "Do speak up, dearie. There's nothing I detest more than mumbling."

"…Nevermind."

Deciphering Gothel was like studying the universe. The more you learnt, the less you were sure of.

She was definitely a Career – Rapunzel had been a witness to most of her kills. She bore no shame in the act either, and treated life-taking as calmly as one would take a stroll in the park on a Saturday morning. But she wasn't without a moral compass. Rapunzel was fully aware that at least two of the District 1 girl's murders had been to protect the blonde girl she barely knew. She wasn't the typical Career that Eugene had been fearful of, but then, what kind of Career was she? What kind of person was she? Cynical, sarcastic, severely beauty-conscious, theatrical, intelligent, cold, proud and…maternal.

"Why did you save me?"

Gothel didn't answer, but Rapunzel knew that she had heard the question from the narrowing of her eyes. The District 1 girl however didn't cease her movements, and continued to strike the flints against another rock, sparking the tinder and starting the blaze. The blonde sighed quietly from her spot, wrapping her knees in her own arms, silently scrunching the grass beneath her toes.

Then the other girl said in an oddly quiet voice, "You remind me of her."

Her? There was only one possible person that Rapunzel could think of. Hesitantly, she said, "Y-your daughter?"

Gothel nodded slowly, a half-mocking smile twisting on her face – the mockery directed, it seemed, at herself. "My daughter."

Rapunzel had to admit that she couldn't quite wrap her head around that. As far as she knew, there hadn't been any mother in the Arena before. "What is her name?"

"What 'was' her name, you mean?"

"Oh, right." _Oh. Oh. Is that why…is that she and Shen…oh dear…_

"Daphne."

"Like the flower?"

"Quite right."

There were many uncomfortable questions that Rapunzel were dying to ask, but she didn't want to upset her newest ally. Or anger her.

"She passed when I was seventeen," the other girl continued on calmly, though there was a tinge of sadness in her tone. "She was seven."

Rapunzel's eyes went wide after she did the math. "So that means you were-"

"Ten years old when I was with child? Well, yes."

The blonde's jaw crashed to the ground, her heart probably jerking to a stop.

Then Gothel threw her head back and guffawed heartily. "Goodness, I was just teasing, darling. Don't take everything so seriously!"

"Oh." Rapunzel let out a sigh in relief, her terse shoulders relaxing.

"Alright, alright, I'll be honest with you now." Slapping the dirt off her hands, Gothel placed them over her lap. Her gray eyes turned heavenward while she thought of how to begin.

"Perhaps it would be best to tell you a little about my – _parents_." Rapunzel noted how her jaw tightened at the word. "Both were trained as Careers in their younger days, but neither of them got reaped. It irked them both to no end, of course." Gothel rolled her eyes. "They were always jealous of the victors back home. That's the crime of being in a wealthy district – there was always someone richer. Since they'd missed their chance, they were determined that I'd get mine - whether I wanted it or not."

At that moment, the District 1 girl removed a dagger from her coat, holding it up by its handle, the wavering flames reflecting off its silver face. "My father taught me knives, and my mother poisons. Of course, their teaching methods were very different, and my mother was constantly trying to kill anyway. She wanted to 'spare me the pain of existence' - ugly people always had it hard, she said. She wasn't lying, but still-" Gothel snorted, before replacing the knife in its slot.

The narration was told in a brisk, casual tone, such that anyone not listening carefully would have easily assumed that she was talking trivial matters like shoes or hair. Rapunzel waited for the black-haired girl to burst into cackles and say 'Got you, didn't I?' but it never came.

Then something that the Career said struck her.

"Wait, ugly?" she found herself cutting in.

"Rapunzel," the elder girl said testily, "it's not good manners to interrupt."

"I'm sorry," the blonde apologized hastily, but she couldn't let go of the idea. "But you aren't ugly. I mean, _look_ at you!" She gestured at the other girl's person. "You look fantastic."

"Thank you, dearie." Gothel beamed, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Unfortunately, this isn't my first face, dearie."

Then Rapunzel remembered the weirdly dressed people of the Capitol. All the gloss and glitter, the bizarre eyeshadows and eyelashes, sometimes they weren't enough. Some birthmarks in wrong places, some bones of awkward shapes, couldn't be hidden under the furs or the rouge. When the Capitol folk reached a certain age that wrinkles and sagging eye bags became too much, they went for more … drastic solutions.

Peering closely at her companion's immaculate countenance, it dawned on the blonde that District 1 developed many of the products and techniques needed for these operations. In that case, it was very probable that the gorgeous black-haired girl had the opportunity to undergo such a procedure, though it would cost a hefty sum.

All she dared to say was, "Wow."

Gothel had gone on, full throttle, as if Rapunzel's input hadn't come up at all. "One day all of that changed. It was the best day of my life. My father had been unfortunate enough to end up in a fight that went bad, and my mother got involved… Long story short, my parents died, and I found Daphne. Of course, I didn't think of it in a good way at the time. I mean, I was eleven at the time."

* * *

**District 1**

**7 Years Ago**

_This arrangement wasn't just laughable. It was absurd. Ridiculous. There was no way she was going to get saddled with this brat._

_"Let me explain this to you, you worthless little whelp."__She wasn't __exactly sure what whelp means, but whenever her late father used it on other guys, it sounded bad. Besides, the toddler – or younger, she didn't look older than two - standing before her probably didn't understand it either._

_Gothel pointed to the town square, where the crowds had gathered to watch the proceedings. She made sure that the littler child had followed the finger before continuing, "My mummy is going die, because your mummy killed my daddy, and my mummy had to kill her back. So," her posture and tone are haughty, "as far as I'm concern, this is definitely your mummy's fault."_

_The child blinked at her. Gothel noticed that the little girl had enormous green eyes – innocent and afraid – and the river of hair flowing down the back of her head was possibly the purest gold she had ever laid eyes on. The older girl fingered with her own black curls – that, her mother said, was the only thing pretty about her. Everything else about the skinny, bony Gothel was either plain, unremarkable or both._

_"So, no matter what the stupid justice guy says, you're not my problem," she told the little girl in harsh tone. Somewhere in the background, she heard the Peacekeeper reading out her mother's crimes. They weren't a lot, just a couple about disrupting peace. After all, the Peacekeepers only cared about peace – they didn't care about justice for a pair of orphans._

_If the community care bothered, they would come and pick up the two girls. There were many awful stories about what went behind the walls of the home, but Gothel wasn't afraid. Her father, while a terrible man in many ways, was an excellent teacher. Under his iron gaze and leather whip, she had a perfected her knife-throw and her gutting abilities. Her mother hadn't bothered with her education, always saying that she was far too ugly to even dream of being a Career, and told her every day without fail to kill herself – save herself the pain of living._

_But that's where her mother and her differed – Gothel was a survivor. Throw her into pain, torture, humiliation, she'd pull through._

_She wondered if this annoying little kid with huge emerald eyes was a survivor. The child looked rather sickly, even malnutritioned – a rare sight in District 1. Gothel knew that the kid's dead mama was a poor mama, who'd rather drink herself rotten than tend to her young. Gothel's mother had always made sure her own daughter was well-fed. No, Gothel's daily problems with meals came in the form of trying to figure out whether it was the milk or the porridge that was laced with aconite._

_"We have awful mummies, don't we?" she remarked to the girl, some of the loftiness replaced by bitterness. The beautiful little child didn't answer, staring back at her with a blank look. No, it was expectant. Hopeful._

_Gothel heard one of the soldiers yelling a command, and the rifles were all loaded and aimed. Soon after the execution, the community people would come for them. And when they got hold of this little child, hardly more than a baby, they would break her, and she would die before the week was out._

_Maybe some part of Gothel, some part that was better than her parents, felt that such a beautiful little child didn't deserve such a fate._

_Jumping to her feet, the older girl held out a palm to the toddler. "Come on."_

_The child hardly hesitated before slipping her tinier hand into bigger girl's one, and Gothel was almost thrown off by the sheer amount of trust this child had placed in her. Well, most children weren't very smart, anyway._

_Just as the squad began to fire, Gothel and the little toddler fled the city square, heading to the forest where the elder girl knew there were a couple of abandoned old houses that no one used anymore – a perfect hideaway from the community people._

_The little girl never really said her own name, so Gothel named her Daphne. As a form of affection, she ended up calling the child 'Flower' most of the time. Hardly three weeks were out before the child had begun to call her 'Mother Gothel'._

* * *

"I was determined to raise Daphne the way my parents never raised me. I asked nothing from her, but to be a good girl and obey me. Of course," she huffed, "money was hard for a pair of ill-skilled children to earn their keep. When I hit twelve, I signed up for tesserae, but it was never enough."

There was a wistful note in her voice that felt so unlike the hard, pragmatic killer that she could slip into. "I wanted to Daphne to have a good life, away from all the grime and the brutality that Career-hood meant. She was too fragile for that. To get that kind of money meant I had to a Career myself, of course, but I wasn't pretty enough that get in." A sly grin crept on her face. "But I was, however, a very, very resourceful person."

* * *

**District 1**

**5 years ago**

_Blackmail was a despicable act – even her parents never stooped that low. Of course, her parents were never quite as bright as she was._

_"I'm well aware how costly it is, Mr. Kongque." Gothel was careful to emphasize every single word to show her seriousness. "But if you'd rather I simply expose your son's dirty secret to the whole District, by all means. Refuse. I'm sure the parents of the dead children would love to have his head on a platter."_

_The scene was almost hilarious; a couple garbed in the latest fashion line, done up head to toe with gold and good reputation, sitting pale and frozen across a scabby pre-teen with a crooked grin. She understood that they were shaken – who wouldn't be, if shown that their son was a murderer? Outside the Arena, at least. But seriously, did they have to care? Like, that much?_

_"You have two minutes," she told them, her eyes flicking to the clock. She liked watching them quaking in their velvet boots, watching them discuss anxiously with each other of possible option. She liked the power._

_After several seconds of heated whispers, the man finally addressed her directly, "Alright, girl-"_

_"Gothel," she corrected him, deliberately choosing to examine her nails rather than look at him._

_"-Gothel. We'll pay."_

_"Please don't tell anyone," his wife pleaded worriedly, wringing her arms together. "For Shen's sake, please."_

_Gothel shoved the cheque over to Mr. Kongque, which he signed with much reluctance. Examining the signature and the sum, she meticulously compared it to another document that he had signed before. Then, she leaned over the study table, grabbed his telephone and jabbed in a few numbers. She waited for a few seconds, then spoke into the mouthpiece, "It's all clear. I got it. You can kill the thing."_

_She heard the couple's collective sighs of relief when she dropped the receiver back on the switch hook. Flashing a smile at them, she said to them, "It was a pleasure working with you." With that, she took her leave._

_Hugging the slip of paper to her chest, she couldn't help chuckling to herself at her victory. And that wasn't even the best part._

_Oh, what was the best part? Well, there was no one at the other end of the phone line._

* * *

"That's how I got my face. Some girls were born with it. I earned it."

Rapunzel was speechless. Somehow a tale about Gothel undergoing teen pregnancy would have been less unbelievable. As if to occupy her loosened jaws, she hurriedly stuffed some berries in her mouth.

"Of course, Shen found out about what I did. In the year I became a Career, he was forced to pull out by his parents. He blamed me for ruining his chances at becoming a victor. He swore revenge." She noted that Gothel had balled her palms into fists. "He threatened Daphne. Naturally, I took steps."

* * *

**District 1**

**3 years ago**

_"Mother, why I can't go? All my friends are."_

_"Because I said so." She was getting slightly irritated. Purposely ignoring the little blonde trailing her steps, she transferred the metal pot from the table to the stove._

_"But I've never seen fireworks up close, Mother."_

_"You mean the stars, Flower." That was the way she handled it. Daphne would insist several times that the fireworks weren't stars, then she would press and say that they were, and eventually Daphne would fall quiet when she began doubting her own eyes, and that was the end of the matter. The problem was that Daphne was getting better at detecting her lies._

_"They're not stars, mother. Stars don't move. I've read a book about that."_

_The most obvious solution then would be telling her the truth, but there was no way that was happening. She wasn't about to taint Daphne's 'perfect mother' view of her._

_'Then let her go.' Another voice told her. 'Let her see the lights.'_

_'No!' She silenced that thought. She couldn't take the risk. She knew that the Kongques had locked Shen up in some asylum, but what if they just decided to let him out for one day, to come see the lights in a moment of sentiment? And if he laid eyes on Daphne…_

_"Please, mother? I'm a big girl no-"_

_"Enough about the fireworks, Daphne! You are not leaving this house! Ever!"_

_The little girl's lip quivered, her eyes suddenly going big and blury. Before Gothel could say another word, the little blonde disappeared from the kitchen, probably to bury herself in the covers of her room._

_Grabbing hold of the matchbox sitting on the counter, she yanked out a match and struck it against the sandpaper. The first flared too quickly, burning out. She whipped out another match, repeating the action, but her finger were clumsy in her anger, and it burnt out too. Throwing the box with a growl, she picked off a knife hanging off the wall. With all her might, she flung it at a mirror that she hung on the end of the kitchen, which she often used to preen at her now prettier reflection. Now all that remained of it were glass fragments that littered the wooden floor._

_Oh, perfect. Now she was the bad guy._

* * *

"Um, Gothel? Are you alright?"

The older girl had suddenly fallen silent, seeming to have suddenly drifted a million miles away in the seconds that she didn't speak.

Rapunzel swallowed the last of the berries that was to be her dinner, and she realized that her companion hadn't touched hers. "Gothel?"

She only answered in two words, hollow and bleak, "He won."

"What do you mean?" Rapunzel had a good guess what it meant, but all the same, she wished it wasn't true.

"When both Shen and I reached seventeen, he returned to Career Academy. I had hoped he'd forget, but he didn't. Without my knowing, he befriended Daphne – or rather, she befriended him. She felt sorry for him, because of his 'sickness'. She was also rather… rebellious at the time." Her voice became even more bitter and scornful=. "He decided to 'reward' her, of course. He gave her a roman candle. Told her specifically not to show it to me - that I wouldn't approve, which was true, of course. So one day when I wasn't home, she lit it up." Her words were starting to meld together, partially in anguish, partially in fury. "She was seven! She'd never seen a roman candle before! How could she know that those things blew up in your face!"

Rapunzel liked to think that she was a very sympathetic person, but looking at Gothel turn from a person of pride and confidence to one of sorrowful rage left her mind blank of comforting words.

Fortunately, after inhaling deeply and shutting her eyes for a while, Gothel managed to collect herself again. Turning to Rapunzel, she said, with her usual motherliness, "You should get some rest, dearie. You look exhausted."

It wasn't an inaccurate assumption, and to prove it, Rapunzel let out a yawn. "But, the death recap?"

"I'll watch for you dear."

"R-right." The District 8 tribute was too eager to do something. Scrambling up from her seat on the grass, she picked a patch of grass and lay down on it, and her eyes found themselves glue to the dark blue sky above. From the periphery of her vision, she noted that Gothel was poking the flames.

She was hesitant again, but she couldn't help herself. "Um, Gothel?"

"Yes, dearie."

"How-how do I remind you of her?"

"Well, she looks like you. Gold hair, green eyes. " There was a pause. "Your innocence, your belief in the good of people. You're exactly how I envisioned her to be, if she had a chance to grow up."

"Oh, thanks." She felt as if she should say more. "Um, thanks for sharing this with me."

"Not a problem at all, dearie. Now don't you worry your little head. Sleep."

Curling herself up in the grasses, wrapping the shorter brown cord around her arms, Rapunzel expected herself to feel more relaxed now that the mystery of Gothel was now cleared up. However, there was still a disquieting sensation running up her spine. Something didn't seem quite right about the District 1 girl's tale…

Before Rapunzel could pinpoint what it was, she had drifted into deep slumber.

* * *

**District 12**

**9 Years Ago**

_He felt a snowball crash into his head, then heard harsh laughter follow._

_Hans, the thirteenth and youngest son of the Westergaard household, scraped the bits of snow off his head. Tracing the path that the projectile had taken, he wasn't all surprised to find a trio of redheaded adolescents snickering behind a pine trunk._

_"Go away!" he yelled at them, but his voice was squeaky and high, compared to their deeper, manlier intones, so it set them off into a fit of giggles._

_"Still waiting for your girlfriend, Hansy-Pansy?" One of the boys called, while another did made a wolf-whistle. Hans tried to give him what his father called a 'withering glare', but with his chubby little features, it was impossible for it to do anything more than a childish pout._

_So he turned away from them, peering past the iron gates to the magnificent old manor. Well, it was magnificent to an imaginative District 12 boy who had seen little else. Under one arm was a small box, containing a very special gift for a very special person. He had done his research carefully – finding out about her favorite colors, her favorite trinkets, and even her favorite flower, which he had slipped under the lid of the box before tying it up with a blue ribbon._

_For a family that was almost too huge to be healthy, the word about little Hans' crush had gotten around at an obscenely rapid speed. He had only told one of his brothers – the one just a year older than him, whom he believed would not betray his confidence. But confidence was betrayed easily at the price of two sugar gums, and Hans' secret became the hottest gossip amongst the Westergaard boys. The big boys had pretty much just ignored him, saying he was a lost cause, while the younger lads, who held similar affections and aspirations to the little lady in question, had told him to lay off their 'Future Mrs. Westergaard' or risk a thrashing. The middle bunch who had no stake in the matter whatsoever just decided to mock their kid brother and see who could get a rise out of him first._

_Taking deep breaths, Hans forced himself to endure the derisive remarks and the emasculating comments, choosing to focus on the task at hand instead. He kept his eyes fixed on the manor house, flitting from one window to another, hoping that he could catch a glance of the lovely maid who he had fallen for._

_Yes. Hans, at the rare age of eight years old, had decided that he was very much in love. Well, why shouldn't he be? She had the fairest hair, like flaxen gold mixed with snow. Her eyes were a__brilliant shade of azure, and she carried herself with a grace and loveliness far beyond her years._

_"That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard," one of his brother had ridiculed him. "You can't be in love with a girl that you've just met."_

_Well, Hans had retorted that that showed that his brother's pea-sized brain couldn't possibly understand true love. That was why the little redhead now sported bruises under his left eye._

_That had been one reason why he opted to go for the indirect approach – he didn't want to scare his lady-love off whilst he wooed her. Hence, he had the box, the flower and the note. The last of the gifts had taken him twenty tries before he had deemed it worthy for her eyes, and he had to debate with himself whether or not to sign it off with his name. Being painfully shy, he opted not._

_After what seemed to be forever, his brothers decided to leave him alone so that he might conduct his surveillance in peace. Just when he did that, he was delighted to discover that the Mayor and his wife were living the house, as they were visiting the Seam that afternoon. They were kindly folk who genuinely wanted to help those in need, thus Hans knew for certain that such visits were routine. He also knew that the Mayor's daughter was also away from home, staying temporarily at the doctor's after having ridden a bike down the spiral of stairs in the manor. Hans had been envious of that. The Westergaards were well-to-do enough to afford a family bicycle, but with thirteen boys, it was hard to share._

_Anyhow, all these factors meant that she was alone in home._

_Waiting the Mayor and Mrs. Mayor to disappear down the hill, Hans rushed through the manor gates. They were closed, but unlocked, he got through after a hard push. He wondered if the creak of the hinges would send her running to the window and discover the intruder. The self-deprecating, awkward part of him really didn't want her to, but the other gleeful, excited part of him quietly hoped that she would._

_But as far he could tell, there was barely a stir in the manor, as if there were no one home at all._

_He went straight up to the door, before placing the box onto the snowy welcome mat. He had to tiptoe to reach the door knocker, and delivered a sharp rap._

_Almost immediately, he heard steps pelting the wooden boards of the house, so he picked up his feet and ran over to a huge pine tree near the house entrance, hiding himself behind the huge trunk and praying that his tracks in the snow wouldn't be so obvious._

_He heard the oaken door swing open, and the angelic voice – the same that he had been dreaming about all week - said hopefully, "Papa?"_

_There was no answer, only the cold winds and the little redhead's silent grin._

_Taking a peep, Hans mirthfully observed that the girl of his dreams – who looked as she had just stepped down from heaven - had spotted and taken up the box. Eagerly, he watched as she read the little note on the box, before removing the ribbon to see the other gift. After lifting the lid, she carefully removed the purple crocus, holding it out to the sunlight, twirling it in her gloved hand. He wanted to punch a fist up in the air when he spotted the ghost of a smile on her lips._

_That second of triumph had faded when the crocus slipped from her finger and tumbled to the ground._

_Confused, Hans stared intently at the blonde girl's face, almost forgetting that he was supposed to hiding. Her eyes were glued to the gift at the bottom of the box – a gift that he had chosen with the utmost care and caution, and also spent six month's of allowance on. He had expected joy, or even disgust. Not distress._

_Without retrieving the fallen crocus, the blonde girl disappeared back into the manor, slamming the door behind her. Alarmed, Hans emerged from the hiding spot, gazing at the manor porch, not understanding. Desiring to discover what was so troubling about his precious gift, he went around the house, hoping that she went to a room which had outside-facing windows._

_He was in luck, because he found her in the living room. Wiping the snow caught on the window pane, he peered through the frosted glass, his anxious breath forming mists and clouding his vision occasionally._

_She was kneeling down by the fireplace, taking a poker and poking the ashes till they became bigger and brighter. Then, she picked up his gift box and removed the lid. Holding the box at arm's length as if it contained a snake, she slowly moved towards the fireplace, her feet stopping right before the black rail. Her lips drawn tight and her entire body rigid, she tipped the contents of the box straight into the flame._

_Hans' eyes could only bulge in horror as he watched the pair of pale-blue gloves, with snowflake pattern rosemaled on the edges, shrink and crinkle in the heat till it was nothing but soot and dust. Just like his heart._

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"So it was you."

He made a sheepish grin. "Um, yeah."

Sitting by the fire light's glow in the darkness, under the shade of the crimson maples hanging over head, there couldn't have been a more uncomfortable duo.

After the Feast, the District 12 tributes had been taken into to the forest and set up camp near a lake. Ordinarily, Elsa would have never dared set up camp near a water source – it was far too obvious an attack-hotspot. But her hand burns needed cooling every now and then, so they decided to throw caution in the wind and set up camp here anyway.

Burns in her hands didn't mean that she couldn't produce ice – the patch of snow under her knees was sure evidence of that. Rather, she just couldn't direct it properly. Well, it wasn't as if she had much control over her powers in the first place.

Hans however didn't share that belief, thinking that as long as she had the gloves, she could. He was wrong, of course, but his faith in her was flattering.

Speaking of gloves –

"I'm sorry about that," she told him, quite sincerely. She hadn't actually remembered much about Hans in her childhood. In a matter of fact, she was pretty certain she didn't even know about his existence till she had spotted him linking arms with Anna in high school.

"When I saw the gloves the box, I was afraid," she ventured on to explain, hoping to somehow redeem herself from the whole 'heartbreaker' image. She had remembered that day quite clearly – she had been trembling with fear when she flung the pretty white gloves into the fire, clutching her own gloved arms, nearly calling up a snow storm out while praying that the giver of the gift hadn't meant anything by it. "I thought someone had found me out. That's why I-" _burnt your heart-felt love confessions to cinders._

"I totally get it. It's fine. Now it really does make sense." He's so maddeningly patient. Sometimes Elsa wishes he would just be bitter or sulky or something. It would have made her felt as if she had paid her debt to him in some way, but his adamant persistence in forgiveness and kindness made her only pile up her own personal guilt.

Whether she liked it or not, the only reason why both of them now stood a chance of getting home was because of him. He had started the romance, and the Capitol had bought it. He had saved her life in the ice castle, almost resulting in his own death at the hands of the Careers. And again he had come back for her during the Feast, literally carrying her out and away of danger. He had done so much for her – for Anna, yet with one single action, she had ruined it all.

Speaking of Anna, why was Hans actually telling her this story? Wasn't he supposed to be in love with her sister? Wasn't this entire 'star-crossed lovers' thing supposed to be nothing more than a cover story?

Or was the cover story just another cover story for the truth?

Frankly, that thought sent an unwanted shiver down her spine, adding to the queasy feeling she already had in her gut.

Truth or not, the game was over – Jack was dead, and by ice too.

_Or was he?_ If he was, then why hadn't the Gamemakers done anything to her?

The lull that fell between them brought back the awkwardness once more, and Elsa found herself boring her eyes into the flames, purposefully avoiding those of the redhead. She wore the gloves over her hands still, to prevent herself from rubbing the blisters and cover the laceration on she had received in battle, if nothing else. Her ankle had been wrapped in her own coat. Once her hands healed – if they ever would – she would be able to make fresh ice bandages for it.

Both of them shared the bland meal, some tree roots and berries that Hans had foraged. It wasn't half as good as the game she and Jack used to catch, but Elsa had to remind herself of why the District 10 boy was no longer with her.

No, here she was, sitting side by side with her supposed romantic interest, like an unwilling actor thrown on the stage with the name of the pantomime and without a script. The quaking in the pit of her stomach was building up her nervousness, and she might just throw up.

But she didn't. _Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them know._

_Don't let them know that you harbor no romantic sentiments whatsoever towards this boy._ That meant that she had to play along.

She tried to start conversation again. "So, when did you start liking me exactly?"

He blushed slightly, his neck turning almost as red as his sideburns while he jabbed the tip of his blade into the ground. He was a wonderful actor.

Or maybe it wasn't acting.

"I met you – or rather saw you – in art class. The teacher showed the rosemaling designs you did to the whole class – called you a genius. That's when I found out about you liked rosemaled patterns." He chuckled slightly, pressing both his hand down on the sword hilt while he reminiscence. "That's when I also noticed that you were perpetually wearing gloves."

"Ha, I see," she commented, twisting the fabric in her hands. Unconsciously, her eyes flicked up, and she found herself staring into his green oculars. They were kind, and concerned, and hopeful. How many times had she heard Anna describe them as 'dreamy'?

She dropped her gaze immediately.

"So, right the moment I laid eyes on you, I just – well – I was a goner." He had probably interpreted the fall in eye level to be shyness, which inclined her to start fiddling with her platinum-blonde braid and really feel shy. "After that, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you or at least-" he grinned wryly "-give you a token of my affections."

Elsa couldn't help but give a little laugh. "Without success, I suppose?"

"Without success," he agreed.

She stifled the urge to ask him_,__'So, was Anna your second choice or something?_', because it would reveal to the cameras their biggest secret, and because she might just not like the answer. So she said instead, "If it helps, I think I remembered liking the crocus."

The firelight was not very bright, but it was enough for her to make out the boyish joy written all over his face. She smiled at the sight, and it was hard not to let it be genuine. Her hand went up to the pin she wore on her collar, and she lifted the latch, pulling it off her person.

"Anna-" the name comes hesitantly to her lips, and she noted a knowing flicker pass his eyes "-gave me this before she entered. As my token."

He took it from her to examine it, unwittingly - or perhaps not - sidling up closer to her. He made a noise of astonishment. "It's made of ice."

"That's my own addition," she confessed with some pride.

"You really have a knack of making things beautiful." He placed the pin back in her palms. Instead of focusing on how warm his hands were even through the focus, Elsa's mind starts reeling away on its own.

_Striking Anna on the head with an ice blast…killing the tree with a single touch…killing Jack…_

"No, I don't." She pulled her own hands away from him suddenly, shaking her head as she did. While fitting the pin back on her collar, she found herself stammering, "I-I can't – I don't – I only can destroy things."

She tried to shift herself away from him, knowing that the ice below her was starting to spread, but he just shifted himself too, refusing to leave her side. His voice was firm and resolute. "Not true. Think of the wonderful things you made – remember the tribute parade? When you turned the chariot into ice? Or when you transformed into the ice dress on stage? That stuff, Elsa," there was no hesitation or doubt in his tone, "that is beautiful."

She didn't want to, but a smile crept up her face then. "So now you know it wasn't a magical ice suit?"

He chuckled, before answering, "No. Just a beautiful, talented, magical ice girl."

She could swear his eyes were glowing when he said that. She had a very good look into them, after all, since both of their faces were merely inches apart, and their eyes locked in the other's.

Everything in Elsa wanted to hit the pause button on the scene and dash away, hide herself under a rock, and never see the light ever again. It was her curse again, except it didn't need to use ice to mess thing up. She was already doing that by flirting with her sister's boyfriend. That was her only purpose in life – to destroy things, and hurt people she love.

But what if Anna understood? What if Jack wasn't dead yet, and she wasn't condemned? What if this was the only way both she and her sister's beloved could make it home was to do the one thing that could destroy her sister?

_Put on a show._ For Anna.

She leaned in, and her lips touched his.

She had never kissed anyone before. Anna hadn't either, but she claimed that when it happened, it would feel like sparks and chocolate and fireworks bursting in the sky.

But Elsa felt nothing. Well, there was perhaps a little fear that she might accidentally freeze him up when she pecked his lips, but besides that, no sparks.

It had only been a second or two before they both hear a 'clunk' near their feet. Startled, they separated, both their eyes going to the ice covered leaf-litter, where a silver parachute lay.

Hans eagerly picked it up, undoing the latch on its side, holding it open so that both of them could see what was inside.

It was a small tube of liquid that was unfamiliar in appearance or smell to he, so she couldn't help feeling disappointed. Hans on the hand seemed elated.

Removing the cap on the tube, he told her, "Take off your gloves."

Curious, she acquiesced, letting the gloves drop on her lap. In the red of the fire, the burns looked even more swollen, and she could feel an uncomfortable throbbing in her palms. Without a word, he took one of her hands in his own, while the other was used to squeeze the tube. The transparent liquid was cool and soothing on her sweltering skin, and he helped to spread it evenly over both hands.

"I'm guessing you've never used burn cream," he said, when he observed her inquisitive expression. Elsa wasn't the type of girl who blushed – she often believed her complexion was far too pale for that – but she could feel the blood filling her cheeks. Well, why shouldn't she, since the boy whom she had just kissed now had his own fingers entwined in his, holding her like he never wanted to let go? And strangely, the ice around her had stopped spreading. The blank awkwardness that she felt during the kiss was replaced by a truck load of confusion.

She began to fear the coming of another kiss when something interrupted them again. To her joy, it was the Panem anthem.

She withdrew his hands from his just in time for the Capitol insignia in the sky to disappear, revealing the tributes who had fallen during the Feast. The list was shorter than expected; Shen for District 1, the scarred boy from District 4, and the grey-skinned boy from District 6.

When the blue lights in the sky dissipated, Elsa found a strange lightness in her chest. She breathed it out, relief in her voice, "He's alive."

She didn't notice the redhead boy mutter darkly, "So he is."

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

Merida had expected him to be chatty, flirty, or even obnoxiously childish. That's how he was with her when they were in the alliance of five. But in her sole company, he was the complete soul of solemnity, walking ahead of her and saying next to nothing.

When she had asked for water, Jack had shown her the lake – though she could have eaten the snow around them. When she had wanted food, he had taken her hunting. Her left arm had still been smarting like crazy due to Turbo's maiming, so he had taken the lead in the hunt, and she had to admit he was fairly proficient with the bow, though she had bitingly vowed to mutilate his face if he had ever dared to snatch her weapon from her again. He had shown her a tight smile, before going back to the silent treatment.

Before she had even the chance to ask for shelter, he had led her to a cave near another frozen lake, built a fire place and divided the cave into two spots, so that both of them could keep a comfortable distance from each other. She had the feeling that this cave was familiar to him, and she suspected that the inner layer of frost in the interior might have some role in it. He hadn't explained anything to her though, telling her that if she could put off killing him till after the death recap, she would have new snug coat to keep those exposed appendages of hers warm. If she let him live till morning, he might be able to get something for her cuts and her broken arm then. That was when she realized that he didn't trust her, and she realized that she couldn't blame him.

Then he had ripped open his backpack – a little bag around the size a wristwatch – pulling out a syringe that presumably would cure his infection, he had declined for her help. She had watched him pull back his own coat, shivering in the cold while his own red fingers clasped the booster and shakily stabbed it into his wound, holding her own breath throughout until he had managed remove the needle without breaking it. If anyone had asked her then though, it had seemed as if the injection didn't help at all. Instead, his skin appeared to become even whiter than before, and his skinny form looked like it was on the verge of breaking.

True to his word, after nightfall and the death recap, their coats came. She shouldn't have doubted him, since his attractiveness hadn't completely declined with his strength. Of course, hers had been a simple black coat, bearing the number five, while his was thick woollen hoodie, complete with gloves, a scarf, and even new boots. He definitely had throngs of sponsors. Yet somehow, she felt as if all that he had was insufficient to keep him from trembling in icy wonderland.

He had offered to take first watch for their camp, which she had objected instantly, stating she didn't trust him. He had made a sharp laugh as a response, saying nothing in reply. In the end, it was just her forcing her eyelids open, while he gazed out of the cave, staring at the moon reflecting off the lake, resting his chin on the head of his staff.

"Have you ever talked to the moon before?"Her drowsy being was startled awake by the sound of his voice breaking the chill.

When she managed to absorb the absurdity of the question, her reply ended up being a short "No."

He chuckled a little, not taking his eyes of the unnaturally glimmering yellow circle hanging in the sky. It was pretty obvious that the Gamemakers were tampering, since it hadn't been too long ago since the new moon phase had occurred. But Jack didn't seem to dawdle on the artificiality, but rather what it reminded him of.

"My sister used talk to it a lot," he informed her. There was a lightness in his tone, one that sounded much more like the Jack that she had first met, rather than the sullen boy that became her ally. "She believed in the man in the moon, you see."

"The what now?" The redhead tipped her head to the side questioningly.

He turned to face her, a smirk threatening to envelope his features. "Let me guess – not a fairy tale fan either?"

She shuddered, but not from the cold. "No. Of course not."

"Leprechauns? Brownies? Leviathans?"

She shook her head, the height of her brow increasing with every name he gave.

Jack sighed. "You don't have much of a childhood either, do you?"

Being her fiery self, and feeling rather put out with him, she took offence. "I spent my childhood learning how to use my bow. I didn't have time to sit around reading – _fairy tales_." The word did sound rather foreign on her lips.

He reclined himself against the cave walls, almost lazily, but she noted traces of a grimace on his face. "I didn't either. I had to clock twelve hours in the fields every day. Fairy tales was something I only did it for my sister."

It then struck Merida that both of them were elder siblings, but that's probably where the similarities stopped. From what she had made to discern from him before and during the Games, he was poor, and his family relied heavily on him for their income. If he died here, what would happen to them? Would they starve?

_No, she had to stop this. _She couldn't allow herself to sympathize with him, to connect with him. That could only be one victor, and she wasn't going to give that up. Besides, the last time she befriended someone – truly befriended, not allied with – the loss almost killed her.

He was as if he could read her mind. "Sorry. I'm not trying to make you sorry for me. I just-" one of his gloved hands went up to his jaw, rubbing it while he tried to put his thoughts to word "-I just miss her. I guess."

He stared out of the cave mouth again, shifting himself closer to outside and away from the fire.

Before Merida could reply to that, he let out a sudden gasp, collapsing back against the cave wall, one wobbly hand grasping his chest while the other drove his staff into the ground to steady himself. At the same time, the redhead noticed that several strands of his chocolate brown hair had turned white, and couldn't help taking a sharp inhale herself.

Once his shivering spell was over, he noticed her gaping at him. "What is it?"

She could only point at the brazen white locks on his head.

He ran his own finger through his tufts, yanking his discolored bangs into his vision. Sighing, he let his arm drop, stuffing both of his hands into his pockets, looking away from her, biting his own lip in thought.

Her throat became curiously dry when she asked him, "What's happening to you?"

There was a pause before the unwilling reply came - "I have no idea."

She wasn't satisfied with that. "It has to do with the snow witch striking you, doesn't it?"

"Her name's Elsa," Jack corrected, oddly defensive. "And don't call her witch - she doesn't like it. And she didn't mean to hurt me."

"Sure." Merida's heart wasn't in it, of course. "But she did, didn't she?" Without a second though, she had risen from her spot, crossing the camp to his side of the cave, plonking herself beside him. She can literally feel cold radiating off him, as if the fire wasn't there at all.

"You're really cold," she told him.

Despite his exhaustion, he gave a wry grin. "And here I thought you were warming up to me."

"We're still not allies," Merida insisted, but there wasn't much fire in her words. Observing how he huddled himself in his coats, the offer slipped out before she could stop herself, "Do you want my coat?"

She immediately wanted to slap herself for those words. Sure, she wasn't suffering as badly as he was, but that didn't mean she needed to get pneumonia out of it! She was supposed to be focusing her own survival!

In his eyes, she could tell he desperately wanted to take it up– any extra bit warmth would help, no doubt. But to her surprise, he rejected it after all "You keep it."

"You sure?" She wanted to chide herself again. The boy decided to be more chivalrous than she. _Don't. Risk. It._

Fortunately, he held fast to his decision, and the redhead happily sunk into the cave wall, stuffing her own hands in her coat pockets. Nonetheless, she found herself edging herself closer to him, perhaps to offer a little of her own warmth.

There was a stillness, before he broke it again, "Do you mind if I-"

He trailed off for quite a bit, and she was about to prod him to finish it, when he finally did it on his own "if I protect you?"

She scoffed him at once. "I don't need protecting."

"That's what she said too," he remarked, softly as speaking to himself. When he faced her again, he explained, slightly embarassed, "I just need someone to protect."

Merida deadpanned, "You're the sick guy."

"Which is why you should trust me," he answered laconically. Any humor faded from his visage soon after that. "I'm already dying, anyway."

The archer by his side found a strange pang in her heart when he uttered those words. It wasn't as if she hadn't already suspected it – just look at him! But the quiet admission was something she wasn't prepared for.

As uninterestedly as she could, she answered, "Fine. Whatever."

He laughed at that, which made her want to laugh too – it was pretty infectious - but she was too tired. Hugging her bow to herself, she found that the ache in her heart had not subsided, but expanded instead. _The bloodbath, the castle battle, Vanellope, Astrid, Turbo_ – everything that happened over the last week came pouring into her mind, somehow making her feel weary and worn from all the destruction around. She wanted to get away, go back home to the manor, to her father's protective arms, to her mother's constant nagging and her brothers' endless tattling. Seeing the misty look in her companion's eyes, it struck her that he must be thinking the same for his family, except unlike her, he was pretty certain he would never see any of his ever again. He didn't honestly believe he would make it out anymore.

She found herself saying in a small voice, "Could you tell me a story, Jack?"

Just take her away – from the cold, from the blood, from everything in the Arena. Just escape.

She detected surprise in his tone, but he didn't mock her like she had expected. "What kind of story?"

The usual type that she had heard from her Da' before were all action-packed, fighting ones, but right now, she had her fill of violence. "Maybe a sappy one. Like romance, and princesses, and-" her voice cracked slightly, "-happy endings."

"Okay." She could almost hear him smile indulgently. "How about Cinderella? Or Sleeping Beauty?"

Before the princess even had a chance to prick her finger on the cursed spinning wheel, Merida nodded off, her head resting on the shoulder of the white-brown-haired storyteller.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Elsa and Hans' conversation is partially based on the one that Katniss and Peeta have in the book.**

**And let me reiterate – THIS IS NOT HELSA. NO HELSA.**

**Kong Que – Chinese for 'Peacock'. (Thank you MissiriKoharehnfor the correction.) So Shen's full name is Shen Kongque. In English, it really looks unpronounceable.**

**Daphne's an OC. Fun fact – I actually hate OCs. If you do too, just imagine that Daphne's just a little clone of Rapunzel. Because essentially, that's what/who she is.**

**(No, no, Daphne's not Rapunzel biological clone. I'm just using a long-route to tell you she's a plot device.)**

**Told you Gothel's backstory was complicated.**

**Up Next: Not entirely sure, actually.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**This chapter was 10 000+ words. Again. I'm getting annoyed with myself. I'm supposed to be studying for my upcoming exams, and clocking this is very time absorbing. I'm killing myself at this rate. Pray that I can manage this, guys, if not its gonna be a long, long hiatus.**

**Mailbox:**

**Minerbuilder12: Hah! That is a hilarious thought!**

**Waveringshadow: You know, the 'old, alone, done for' quote was actually ringing in my head when I wrote that line... I hope your wrist,'s getting better? Typing must hurt. I'm not going to be a best selling author either, but I just wrote coz I like too. Literally everyone who 'died' in chapter 34 got revived in chapter 35 - something I really enjoyed doing. There's nothing more cliche than brining back people from the dead. **

**the fam man: Really glad that you like this! Will do my best to keep up standard. And for the '3 responses of fanfiction writers while reading' list - totally agree. And banging my head and waiting for the next chappie of Moonsong to turn up. **

**WarriorQueen 14: Your enthusiasm is very obvious indeed! Sorry, but that's all the Helsa you're gonna drag out of me. I'm not sure if there would exactly be more Tangled in these bits (I'm saving some Tangled stuff for the future.) but as you might be able to tell, there will be more involvement of Tangled characters. You spotted the Anna reference! Good one you! I thought I might as well throw it in since it's pretty likely Elsa's never gonna have a chance to freeze Anna's heart, I mean since she might never see her sister ag- oops. Too much. Oh, Jack was just feeling sad because he gave up his own escape plan to come back for Elsa, but in the end Hans saves the day. Something like that. **

**that one evil girl: Hope you enjoyed the flashbacks, because really, they were a pain to write. **

**QueenElsaOfArendelle: Yep,they ain't anymore. Don't lose hope though. Not everything is as it seems...**

**Nightingale82: Rap's pretty shaken by the whole thing, so that all the feast events probably drove her to allying herself with Mother G. I really like the Jack and Merida alliance - adore it, actually. It serves a purpose, of course (that isn't romantic.)**

**Awsomaniatica: I've been planning the reshuffle scene ever since the beginning of the stories, so it's purely intentional that the first bunch of alliances are very difference from the present ones. Oooh, sorry if Shen's murder grossed you out. I think I liked that part just because I've been dying for Gothel to reveal the twist factor about herself. Haha, as you would note by now, Jack's not exactly on Hans' list of favorite persons at the moment.**

**clara0414: Haha, the Gothel twist prevails once again. I can't promise what will/won't happen to Gothel or Rapunzel, so, yep. Haha, Snow White and her powers on snow…that's hilarious. The berry stunt is probably not going to happen – I can reveal that. I can't have everyone I love dying, so I cheat majorly. Yep. The rule change serves its own purpose, though not quite the same as the THG one. Tissue would be provided when necessary, of course.**

**Maggietheawesome: Jack has…half-white hair at the moment. Rapunzel kinda goes along with Gothel coz the Arena's tipping her over, and Gothel did save her twice, and maybe as twisted as Gothel is, she would protect her… maybe. I love the Merida/Katniss and Ralph/Thresh bit, of course. As for Hans….hehehe. There's a bucket in the corner if you need to use it.**

**Pearlness4700: Will Hans be a good guy? Well, define good guy. Will he be going against his character in the film? Well, this Hans is certainly different from the film one due to motivations and context differences. **

**BurningMoon101(chap1): Exactly like the movie? No. Anything else? Well…**

**Bye guys. Studies and Research Paper calls. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **


	39. Chapter 37: Image

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 37: Image

* * *

**District 1**

**8 Years ago**

_Sears of fire rippled across her back as the cool liquid splashed on to the open flesh. She sucked in a breath, but refused to cry out. Her fingers tightened their grip around the corners of the table, and her eyes were squeezed shut._

_"Don't move," her mother instructed her, using a cloth to dab away the excess, making her wince each time pressure was added on the gashes._

_She had missed the target by three inches. In her father's eyes, that was as good as three miles._

_"A lung puncture doesn't kill as efficiently as a clean slice through the chest! Get that!" He had snarled._

_Three inches meant three sets of whips, and each set came in five. Her father wasn't necessarily a bad man. He just wanted her throwing to be perfect, and she had to admit, she would thank him one day._

_However, all that didn't negate the fact that he was indeed a lousy father._

_"I did warn you, dearie. But of course, you wouldn't listen," she heard her mother say behind her. "It's not worth it. All this suffering, all this pain that you force yourself to go through – it's not worth it." Through the huge mirror that they kept in the dining room, Gothel watched as her mother put aside the alcohol and the cloth to pick up the ointment bottle._

_Just as her mother unscrewed the cap, Gothel halted her. "Wait."_

_Her mother arched a brow at her through the looking glass._

_Firmly, the daughter asked, "What's in the bottle?"_

_"Why, just some iodine, dearie, to kill the infection."_

_Gothel's reflection sent a withering glare to her mother's own._

_Her mother rolled her eyes and huffed. "Fine. Maybe a little curare."_

_Gothel held her gaze._

_"And three percent strychnine."_

_"If you're just going to keep trying to kill me instead of the infection, then forget it," she told the elder woman, preparing to heave herself off the table, bleeding back or not, pull her shirt over herself, and get out of the accursed house._

_Just as she was about to do that, her mother put in, "Fine, fine. I'll just bandage you. No tricks. How's that?"_

_Her pride wanted her to march out of the dining room and ignore the insane woman who claimed to love her, but the skin that her father had fleeced off her back made her back muscles too raw for her to even move. So grudgingly, Gothel slumped herself back onto the table, allowing her mother to add the dressing patches to her back._

_There was a brief moment of silence while the mother wrapped the wounds, and the daughter kept close watch while she did. Her mother was said to have been very beautiful in her youth, and even traces of that loveliness remained in bits and pieces around her; how her grey eyes gleamed when she laughed, or how her luscious black-curls shone in the light. The tranquility and grace that she carried about her person would have deceived any other that she was the epitome of tender, loving mother._

_However, to her plain-faced daughter, who shared the same grey eyes and curls but lacked the loveliness, she was a monster._

_"Why can't you just be like other mums?" Gothel muttered under her breath, gluing her eyes to the mirror, staring hatefully at the strong, independent, beautiful woman whose standards could never be reached._

_"Speak up, Gothel. You know I hate mumbling. It's very annoying."_

_Deliberately raising her voice up several octaves, the daughter hissed, "Other mums don't try to kill their kids, you know that? Why do you hate me so much?"_

_Her mother sighed, but it wasn't the regretful sigh or the sorrowful sigh. No, it was the irritated sigh - the kind you made after explaining the same concept to person over and over. "I don't hate you, Gothel. I love you very much. You're my daughter."_

_The girl scoffed disbelievingly at that, swinging her shoulders back and forth in discomfort while her mother did up the last of knots for her bandages. The elder lady went on solemnly, "I know you resent me for my 'opinions'-"_

_"Quite rightly," Gothel murmured, pushing herself of the table. Her mother held out her shirt for her, which she snatched away roughly before pulling it over her head._

_"-but understand, dearie, it's a cruel world out there, and it does not pity the unfortunate. I don't want you to suffer that."_

_Just like her mother to think that way. But that was her mother – believing that a woman's worth was ultimately tied to her appearance. To be ugly was to be worthless, and to the worthless, quick death by powders and toxins was mercy._

_"Has it ever occurred to you that I'm strong enough to take it?" Gothel spat, batting her mother's delicate fingers from adjusting her collar. "That maybe I can actually survive being 'ugly'?"_

_"You're young. You haven't been broken yet," her mother answered levelly, watching Gothel picked her coat off the chair. "But in time, you'd see that mother knows best."_

_Her daughter merely sneered at that, swinging the jacket over her shoulder and groaning when it slapped her wounds. The mother stretched her hands out automatically, possibly to caress her, but the girl stepped curtly away._

_Gothel told her while pointing at the looking glass, "One day, when you grow to be old and ugly, the strong, confident, beautiful woman in that mirror is going to me instead." Her silver eyes glittered dangerously. "And on that day, when you beg me to put me out of your misery, I won't. Mercy's too good for you."_

_Spinning on her heel, the girl marched out of the house that she could hardly call her home._

_The elder woman never had a chance to grow 'old and ugly', because the following year she was charged for homicide. Before she was taken to the square, she begged her daughter to bring her the vial of hemlock she kept on the poison shelf. _

_Gothel, naturally, refused._

* * *

**Capitol – Lucky Cat Bar**

"She won't say, but what Hiro did shook her really badly. In a matter of fact, it shook us all."

The olive-skinned gentleman sitting across him wasn't his usual breakfast date, and the news that he delivered in her place was far more frustrating.

"So that's it? She's given up?" The one called Flynn asked.

"She just needs time to collect herself." The one called Wasabi was quick to defend his friend. "She's only been in this for a year. Try to understand."

"Well, sorry if I can't at the moment." The brunette man couldn't keep help the accusatory tone. "Rapunzel's life is at stake. Can you get her to understand that?"

"You think Gogo doesn't know that? But don't forget that what Hiro's doing in there goes beyond saving five lives. If he succeeds in there and gets out alive, he'll save millions of innocent kids in the future."

"The future can hang itself!" Flynn snapped. "There are already kids dying in there!"

It was fortunate that the café was largely empty, because the outburst ended up being much louder than the Capitol's most fashionable man had expected. Pressing two fingers to his forehead, Flynn forced himself to exhale. He knew that he couldn't really blame Gogo, or Wasabi. Both were risking their necks for an organization that barely gave them the time of the day. At least the 'other side' kept him in the loop often, though only because he was one of their main informants. But the 'other side' couldn't be blamed either – their resources were limited. If anything, this was the Capitol's fault. It always was.

Wasabi had said nothing in reply to Flynn's flare-up, merely giving the elder man a sullen look, before rising from his own seat, tapping his own card on the payment register and marching out of the bar.

Flynn pushed the saucer and cup away from him, turning his eyes to the screen near the counter. Sully and Mike were discussing the new set of odds for survival of each tribute, since there had been a huge reset after the Feast event. The District 2 tributes took the highest score, while the District 10 boy took the lowest. The number for Rapunzel's was constantly changing – that, Mike explained, was because her situation was ambiguous. Under the care of possibly the best Career in the Arena, she could be in safe hands, but for how long? All alliances had to break some time or another, and when would the dangerously unpredictable District 1 girl breaks hers?

Eugene – for he couldn't be Flynn when he was alone – didn't trust Gothel. When he had first objected to setting up an alliance between her and Rapunzel, it had been purely because she was a Career. But now he felt as if the distrust was because of other reasons. There was something off about the girl, and he couldn't help expecting her to turn into a shrieking harpy any second.

He left the bar without finishing the coffee, heading straight the glimmering boulevards, drawing up his hat tightly over his face and hoping he wouldn't encounter any of his fans this early in the morning. He wasn't in the mood for putting on fake smiles at the moment.

The television screens lining the streets were now showing the District 3 boy, squatting by a stream and lapping up some water hurriedly. He appeared exhausted, as if he hadn't slept throughout the night, but the dark circles under his eyes or the soot around his face were not what Eugene fixed his eyes on. Instead, he automatically focused on the set of silver bands around the boy's wrists while he raised yet another mouthful of water to his chaffed lips.

Eugene had never spoken to the elder Hamada boy in person, but what he did know was the boy's passion for helping people. Even before the Games begun, Hamada had sent countless messages to the 'other side', hoping that they would have some way of preventing the bloodshed while fulfilling the mission. But the 'other side' never responded, not because they were purposely cold or ruthless, but because it would be impractical to 'save' anyone other than those they needed.

Sometimes Eugene wondered why he worked for these guys.

"You better get yourself together, kid," he found himself talking to the District 3 boy on the screen. "Or it's 23 dead, the way the rest of us did."

"Mr. Rider?"

He spun around, finding himself face to face with Minister Corona's purple-haired secretary.

He floundered for a moment or two for the name, before it came to him. "Celia?"

The girl's face brightened at his recognition of her, nodding. But putting her pleasant surprise aside, she got down to business.

"I've got the file that you've requested for." From the stack she carried, she pulled out two folders, handing it to him. One was much heavier than the other, he noted. "They've got health records, birth certificates, family history - all original copy."

"Thank you." He took the files under his own arm. While it wasn't impossible for him sneak back to the archives in the Underground, it much more convenient when someone who actually had authorized access to the place did it. After his confrontation with the Minister, Corona and his wife had not only gone back to sponsoring Rapunzel, they were more than willing to aid him in anything that could save her, even when the things that he requested for made no sense to them.

"Good luck," Celia wished him, before they parted ways.

Eugene hurried back to the Game Centre after that, making a beeline for the elevators and heading straight to the eighth floor. The entire floor was empty, since Hookhand had long departed following the death of his mentee during the Bloodbath. Bruiser and Killer had left the premises too, since their skills were no longer needed. The only company he had was the Avoxes, but he preferred to work away from their sight.

He retreated to his quarters, dismissing the Avoxes there and shutting the door behind him. Going over to the coffee table, he almost started when he found a pair of eyeballs staring at him from the table.

"Don't do that," he chastised the creature in question, plopping down the file on the wooden table.

The reptile made squeak that sounded like a laugh, before reverting back to its original green colour. It hopped over to the files, blinking curiously at the folders. A trill rumbled at the back of its throat while it watched the man flip them open.

A week ago, he would have thought this stupid, but now Eugene spoke to the chameleon the way he would have spoken to another human being, "It's that District 1 girl. I don't like her."

Pascal bobbed his head up and down in agreement, shifting himself obligingly out of the way while the brunette man laid the various documents on the table. Chirping, the reptile jumped onto one of papers, eyeballing it for a second, before going to the next.

Eugene himself was examining the family history document for a 'Gothel von Mutter' and he had to admit that it was ugly; there was a lot of insanity related conditions in the girl's family. The father had aggression issues and the mother depression, along with a bunch of other disorders that Eugene didn't recognize. He skimmed through the whole documents, before throwing it down in disgust. Besides informing him that the fair-faced girl from District 1 had a terrible childhood, it didn't really explain why he felt so distrustful towards the girl.

Could she be insane like the rest of her family? Reading the girl's own mental health report revealed that she was in fact very much in her own sound mind – certainly much more than her ancestry would allow. The psychiatrist who wrote it attributed this to the fact that Gothel managed to channel her 'issues' in a far more healthy fashion – that is, by being a mother to her adopted daughter.

_The daughter…_ Eugene whipped out the communication device from his pocket, recalling the video that had been sent him the night before. After Gothel and Rapunzel had disappeared from the screens, he had suspected that they had entered a blind spot, so he had contacted his insider in the Game Control and had asked him to keep an eye on his mentee, just in case his hunch on the Career girl was right. The insider had grumbled that such hacking was dangerous and difficult, but nonetheless conceded to the request, and had even sent him a video of Gothel narrating her own story. Eugene had watched the whole thing back and forth a few times, and felt his worries only increase when he observed the growing sympathy that his blonde mentee had for her ally.

He then heard an alarmed chirp from Pascal, which caused him to raise his head. The green creature was bouncing up and down on one of the health documents, jabbing his spiny tail at one of the paragraph. Dropping the communication device on the table, Eugene leaned over to that particular sheet, squinting at the portion that the chameleon had found.

And when he had fully absorbed its meaning, he swore with such ferocity that the reptile blanched at the sound of it. Rapunzel was under false security that bearing resemblance to the District 1 girl's deceased daughter would protect her. She couldn't be more wrong.

His gut feeling had been right – no matter what Gothel's own mental report said, the girl was a psycho.

"We have to warn her," he said grimly. This plan of action was fervently agreed to by Pascal.

Just as Eugene picked up his communication device and prepared to dial for Corona, he received a notice on his screen that he had received a message. Making a couple of gestures on the screen, he wasn't surprise to find that it was sent by the insider.

It said, _"You might want to see this."_

'This' referred to a video the insider had attached to the message. With Pascal crawling on his shoulder eagerly to get a better view, Eugene flipped the device to lie horizontal on the table, and opened the file.

The holo-projector on the device buzzed to life, displaying what was a mini-camera view of the blindspot enclave in the Spring Quarter. The numbers rolling on the side of the video revealed that it had been recorded only five minutes prior to present time, so it made sense that his blonde mentee was still fast asleep on the grass carpet – it was just dawn in the Arena, after all. But the District 1 tribute was already awake, seated on top of one of the stone crags, fiddling with a dagger.

Not only that, she was seemed to be talking aloud. _"I know you're out there. I know that you're watching this. I'm pretty good at fixing puzzles, so forgive me if I solved this one too quickly. "_

Eugene and the chameleon exchanged curious looks, before returning to watching the girl.

The steel grey eyes of Gothel ran all over the walls of the enclave, as if expecting the cameras to be all over the place, which showed that she didn't know much about blind-spots, if nothing else. Yet, the girl continued on confidently, as if she did indeed know everything, _"You're the Rebellion, aren't you?"_

Eugene felt a chill run up his spine. Suddenly, he was very glad that the girl was indeed in a blindspot. If the Gamemakers was watching her now, and believed her not to be gabbing nonsense, it was curtains to all plans.

_"Can't imagine your purpose here, but I'm pretty sure you're trying to save some tributes - very compassionate,"_ Gothel continued in a causal tone, a knowing gleam in her eye while she placed her right palm over her left wrist, twisting it back and forth meaningfully. _"Though, if I'm not wrong, there's limited space on the Noah's Ark, isn't there?"_

His jaw hardened, his lips threatening to spill a new tirade of curses, but he couldn't speak till he heard everything that she had worked out.

_"I want to survive. I want in,"_ Gothel told her faceless listeners, her firm tone clearly indicating that she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. _"Being a victor is nice and everything, but I'd rather not risk fighting Astrid and her District guy's muttation – no, thank you.__I expect you to show me __how and where I can get an arm band. I'd rather it'd not come to this, but if you don't help me, well,"_she pointed at the sleeping blonde behind her, a smirk twisting its way to her lips, _"need I remind you that I have a hostage?"_

The video stopped there, and when Eugene fell back on the couch, he was shaken, partially in disbelief, partially in fury. This girl wasn't just psycho – she was psycho and smart. _And she had dared to demand – she threatened – Rapunzel, she – damn it, damn it, damn it… _

"We have a lot to do, Pascal."

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

There was a gulp. "I'm gon'na throw up."

There was a sigh. "Look, this is your own idea. And if that thing really has healing properties, then you should do it."

Both of them proceeded to stare at the object of study. The reptile looked at the two tributes, rolled its eyes and set its head back on its haunches.

"Okay. Fine. I'll do it." The boy took in a deep breath, still holding the makeshift bowl of clear liquid at arms' length.

"Well?" The girl in his company was starting to get impatient.

"Don't rush me." He drew the bowl reluctantly to his nostrils, took a sniff, and then held it away from himself again. "Okay, that's just plain awful."

"Stop being a baby, Hiccup. Down the thing already!"

"It's reeking raw fish and gastric juices!"

"If you don't drink it up this instant, I will hold you down and force it down your throat."

He knew that she was more than capable of making good the threat. So with one final apprehensive huff, he put the rim of the bowl to his lips and began to swallow the gooey transparent stuff. By the disgusted expressions and gagging noises he made, it was obvious that the sensation was unpleasant, and the taste even more so. Even his blonde companion's façade of bravado crumbled and she had to cover her own mouth to prevent herself from regurgitating her fish breakfast – which already tasted pretty fishy on its own.

It was about thirty seconds of horrendous torture before the contents of the bowl was emptied, and the drinker threw the bowl away, pulling a face and sticking his tongue out. "Worst-" _cough_ "-thing-" _cough_ "-ever."

"Agreed." The blonde nodded, pinching her nose while she retrieved the bowl. "I'm just gonna wash this, okay?"

"Just don't go too far."

She made a scornful sound out in response to that, which would have made him worried the first time she did it. But seeing the good-humoured smirk over her rosy countenance, he grinned in return.

The cave that the District 2 tributes resided in was not necessarily large, but it was spacious enough to house the great black creature that remained in their company. Astrid had been, and still was, extremely wary of the dragon that her odd District mate had decided to call 'Toothless'. The only things she had ever learnt about dragons were that they were the most vicious types of muttations ever; with cunning, intelligence, blood-lust and insanity.

Well, she could have sworn the ebony-scaled creature in the cave had just curled itself up like a cat and dozed off.

The location of the cave was also a strategic one. Within fifty steps, Astrid arrived at the stream. Dipping the wooden bowl that Hiccup had carved for them into the still waters, she paused to scrutinize the wound on her left arm. The mark left by the District 5 girl's arrow was still there, but the bleeding around it had stopped, and thanks to the – she couldn't believe she was saying this but – Night Fury's saliva, it seemed that infection could be avoided. She had jokingly asked him why he hadn't just used his mutant friend's power to heal that cut too. With his eyes downturned, he had mumbled something about not having the time too. It was then that she had realized that he had been staring at the cloths covering the puncture in his own shin.

She felt shame wash over her while filling the bowl with spring water. She hadn't been able to stop Hiro from hurting Hiccup – she, one of the best Career there was – and she didn't doubt that her bony District mate would have been there dead if it wasn't for the dragon. Yet, in his damaged state, Hiccup still managed to save her life. Again.

Astrid straightened herself up, swinging her axe over her shoulder as she headed back to their camp. Forcing the gloomy thoughts out of her head, she focused on the brighter prospects. Both of them stood a chance of going home now. She would nurse him back to health, protect him the best she could, and when the train carried them back to District 2, she could call the debt squared. Well, half-squared, but both of them would be living long enough for her to fixed the other half.

Was she overly confident that they could go home? Perhaps a little, but other than the District 12 lovers, they were the only District team left. True, the District 12 girl had ice abilities, but somehow Astrid couldn't find that as threatening anymore, in light of whom Hiccup's fiery friend was.

Again, it was because of Hiccup. He was the one who made friends with the dragon; the dragon that had carried them out of the battlefield; the dragon that had protected them from the other fire breathing beasts during the night raids in the Summer Quarter; the dragon that had enthusiastically brought them their dinners and breakfasts. Sure, it had been saliva-covered, half-digested fish, but they had been far too exhausted to do fishing themselves, and had been terribly famished, so the contribution had been accepted.

Hiccup Haddock, the most useless career that ever lived, had tamed a dragon and saved her life.

When she arrived at the cave, she spotted him running his fingers over the bandages covering his leg. "Don't touch it. It took me ages to get it right."

It honestly did. Astrid had gotten injured often enough in Career Academy, but she had always relied on the doctors to fix her up. When confronted with the mangled mess that had been Hiccup's shattered tibia bone, she had been sweating like a raincloud while her District mate had forlornly given her instructions on how to save his life. That was something Astrid did not want to relive, at least, until necessary.

"It's just itches a little. Sorry." His hoarse voice went slightly high-pitched at the end, turning into a squeak. He coughed, rubbing the bruises along his jugular.

She handed him the bowl of water. "Might help to wash down the taste."

He took it from her hands gratefully, drinking up the entire bowl at once. Gasping in satisfaction, he thanked her once again. "I will never drink Night Fury saliva ever again."

"Well, if your throat doesn't heal immediately, you're going to have to," Astrid pointed out. She made a private note that if they encountered the District 3 boy again, she was going to make him pay for what he did to Hiccup.

He was resting against one of the walls in the cave, wrapped in his own jacket, both injured and uninjured legs straightened out before him. Her own bones still suffering the after effects of yesterday's adventures, she sat herself beside him, dropping her axe across her lap.

She detected him stiffening, so she asked, "What?"

"Um, you're sitting next to me."

She cocked a brow at him. "Got a problem with that?"

Alarmed, he waved both of his hand at her. "No! No! I'm-I'm fine! Okay! Great! You're As-Astrid. I'm Hic-Hic-Hiccup. You're-you're sitting next to me. Yep. Totally okay – erm, not objecting to it."

She shook her head at his stammering, before picking up a stone from the ground and striking it against her blade. The clink of metal echoed in the cave, causing the snoozing dragon's ear flap to twitch in response, but the creature did not awaken.

Both of them sat a while in the stillness. She could tell he was racking him brain for something to kill it, so she decided she decided to spare him that agony, and bring up what had been bothering her for ages. "I never got around thanking you for saving me."

Her eyes were still fixed on the metal blade, but from the reflection off the blade, she could see his eyes widening in surprise. She hurried to clarify it, "Not just for yesterday. I meant,-" she cleared her throat "- four years ago. The bread."

She noted with much amusement that his surprise only increased, the bowl falling out of his hand at the same time. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but still he was speechless.

Finally, he stuttered in his raspy voice, "I didn't expect you to remember."

"How can I not? It kept me alive." Without noticing, she struck the whetstone at her axe with more force than needed, causing the stone to crumble in her hands. "_Oops._"

"Let me." He held an arm to out to her. She didn't know what he was planning to do, but she didn't hesitate to put her precious weapon in his hands. He then pilfered another stone from the cavern floor, examining the blade carefully, before aiming a strike at it. Seeing that her questioning expression, he explained, "It's the angle you hit it at."

"Uh-huh." She continued to stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond to her earlier comment.

It was about ten strikes against the blade before he asked, "How did it taste?"

"_Hmmph_?"

"The bread. How did it taste?"

She went quiet for a moment. All she knew was that to a hungry child, it tasted like the sweetest thing in the world, as if she had just taken it off the table of the gods. She wasn't going to tell him that, of course. "It was okay, I guess."

"Oh." He sighed. "I was testing out this bread-making device I made that day. You know, the day you-you, _err_, showed up. My dad said it was stupid, so I threw it out. And now I find out that it actually worked. Such a waste."

She quirked a brow at him, as the phrase came ringing back in her mind. "'Bread-making careers?"

He blushed, which made her smile for some reason. "Oh, _er_, yeah."

She chuckled. "Well, maybe when we go home, you can renew your attempts at being a baker again."

He laughed heartily, and Astrid could tell from the brightening of his eyes that he was thinking of home too. When they got back to District 2, they'd both be victors. Heroes. Champions of the District. From her, it was expected, so it wouldn't be much of a deal. But from him, it would be a surprise – a pleasant one, too. Everyone would be patting his back, congratulating him, and his father too. The son of two victors finally proving himself worthy of his predecessors' legacy. No one would ever call him useless again.

However, leaving the Arena would also mean leaving certain things behind with it.

"Hiccup?"

"Yeah?"

"When we win," she used 'when' without hesitation, "what will happen to -" she didn't speak the dragon's name, opting to jerk her chin towards the sleeping creature.

She noted how Hiccup's hands slowed from its work on her blade, a worried expression spreading across his countenance. A pang of regret slammed into her for bringing up a subject he probably didn't want to confront.

His voice was soft, and it wasn't because of his larynx injury. "I don't know."

He began to resume his silent grinding of her axe, creasing his forehead together, deep in thought. In her chest grew a desire to distract him from the inevitable parting, so she did the only thing she knew how to do.

Pulling an arm back, she whacked him soundly in the shoulder.

He cried out, dropping her axe in favor of grabbing his new bruise. "What?"

"For humiliating me along with other Careers." He appeared confused, so she filled the gaps. "You know, during the chase in the chase in the Summer Quarter. About three days ago. You got me in huge trouble."

"Sorry," he grumbled, rubbing his wound and shaking his head incredulously at her.

She noted that the dragon had blinked awake at Hiccup's pained shout, but made no move toward the afflicted or the afflicter, snorting before deadpanning at his russet-haired master. The boy had simply raised his hands up in defeat, indicating that he too didn't understand girls either.

His confusion increased ten-fold when she grabbed his bruised shoulder, yanked him towards her and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Pushing him away almost immediately, Astrid could feel blood rushing to her face while she ran her fingers through her blonde bangs. "That's for-" _granting her mercy, showing her compassion in the Summer Quarter, risking himself to save her life?_ "-everything else."

She shot up to her feet immediately, making a beeline for the exit of the cave, hoping he didn't notice the red on her face. She couldn't help, however, reveling in the flustered, sheepish half-grin that spread across the contours of his face. She heard Toothless gurgle something that sounded almost like humanistic laughter, followed by Hiccup muttering irately, "What are you looking at?"

Feeling strangely light-headed and happy, she escaped back into the forest.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

The final destination, according to his map, was Summer Quarter. He had been warned before that the Summer Quarter was full of malignant beasts. So Hiro decided to sit down and read the Muttation Manual from cover to cover before going there.

Reluctant to retreat back to the water-scarce blindspot of the Quarter, he decided to set himself down by the river's edge, reclining himself against a nearby oak tree. Having an excellent memory, he simply needed to scan a page to absorb the content, which made the process much quicker had he been anyone else.

The further Hiro delved into the manual, however, the more he noticed the presence of graffiti over its pages – undoubtedly left behind by the previous owners. He found himself getting distracted by the doodles, chuckling at one or two of the comical pictures, before flipping through the rest of the book for more. Some of the diagrams were technical in nature, with numbers and arrows written around what seemed to be booby-trap blueprints. These, Hiro guessed, were probably Hiccup's. The child prodigy had after all seen some of the District 2 boy's plans during the training days, and he recognized the slant of the scrawls.

Along the borders of another page, he found a set of sun-shaped symbols, marked out with the burnt end of a charcoal stick. His brain immediately connected this to Rapunzel, who he managed to accurately recall, wore a jeweled sun pin on her sleeve. He wondered where she was now, and who she had partnered with. Even though the entire 'saving plan' had been pretty much ripped to shreds, he still hoped that she was safe, and Jack too.

An involuntary shudder ran up his system when he came across a page marked 'Night Fury'. There, he found a rough sketch of the black creature that had descended suddenly from the sky to protect the District 2 boy the day before. However, the creature in the book was not the snarling, growling one that Hiro recalled, but one that bore a curious, almost demure expression. Nonetheless, gazing upon the beast that could have turned him into barbecue disturbed him, so he went on to the next page.

The following doodles were a variety of portraits - some accurate, others deliberately mocking. There was also a rather stunning picture of the District 2 girl within, bearing a smile and a laugh that seemed so foreign compared to the grim expressions that Hiro had seen with all his encounters with her.

His eyes then fell onto the following page, and he almost stopped breathing. The girl on the paper was holding her glasses over her forehead while she peered through the waterfall of her silky straight gold hair to squint at something. Though the object of admiration was not drawn in, fascination and enthusiasm written so clearly over her countenance made Hiro wonder what exactly could it be. Let his imagination take its course, he found himself imagining what she could be saying.

"A dash of perchloric acid! A smidgen of cobalt! A hint of hydrogen peroxide!" Her olive-green eyes would go wide with wicked excitement. "Then SUPERHEAT it to five hundred kelvin and ..._TADA_!" She would proudly present some extremely strange invention while he would awkwardly start a slow clap.

Hiro allowed himself a small smile, though tears trickled down his cheek, onto the paper below him. Unwittingly, he blotted the damp away with the hem of him shirt, then used his jacket sleeve to wipe his cheek. He was definitely going to miss the crazy blonde girl and her enthusiasm for chemistry.

The silver bands of his arm jingled together when he dropped it back by his side, causing him to stare at it. Whatever the circumstance that led to her dying, Honey Lemon had known when to forfeit her place. So she had given the band away, hoping that a complete stranger would be given the chance that had been taken from her. Even towards the end of her life, she had showed compassion.

Like Tadashi.

Staring intently at the metallic bands, Hiro felt a swelling in his chest, beating against him like a drum. He had screwed up majorly at the Feast, and now the odds of him being able to save anyone were lower than ever, but he had to try again. He had been given the ability to change the game – even if only in a small way - so he had to make this right.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a clear, resonant 'ping'. On top of a nearby stone, a parachute had landed. He reached over to it, detaching the string and opening the container.

Within it was lay a compass, which appeared innocuous enough, but Hiro could tell by the added weight on it that the compass didn't just point North. To confirm his suspicions, there were five arrows hooked to the dial, and three of them pointed to himself.

The message accompanying the gift was simple.

_'YOUR SECOND CHANCE. USE IT WELL. – G'_

Determination mixed with hope was what Hiro felt as he peered at the two diverging arrows. One pointed towards the Winter Quarter, while the other towards the Spring Quarter. Well, he would then head for the Spring Quarter first then, after dropping by the Summer Quarter, then hopefully he would be able to get whoever it was from the Winter Quarter.

Just as he was about to discard the note, he realized that there was something else printed on the underside. It read:

'_PERSON NUMBER EIGHT COMING IN FROM THREE O'CLOCK.'_

'Three o'clock' he understood was a direction, but who was 'person number eight'? He glanced at the diverging arrows on the compass again. Neither of them pointed to the three o'clock direction, so it wasn't someone with a band.

_'Person number eight'_. He pondered. Sounded like the person was on a list or something.

Then it dawned on him. It was a list! The list of tributes he had drafted during training days, when he and Honey had assumed that the 'other side' would give them the twelve spots. That must have been who Gogo had referred to!

Of course, the members of the list had long slipped his mind, so he had to scratch his head awhile before the he could remember who exactly it was. 'Person number six' had been the District 10 girl. 'Person number seven' had been the little kid from District 11. So, that meant that 'Person number eight' was…

The humongous boy whose name had escaped Hiro at that moment emerged from the forest – precisely in the three o'clock direction, as Gogo had so informed. The muscular redhead boy lifted his rock-sized fists in the air, roaring fearsomely at him. Hiro was seriously being to question his personal sanity for including this person to his old list.

Everything in Hiro screamed either run or fight, and only the compass he held in his right hand reminded him that he couldn't do either. If he was going to save anyone, he was going to do some crazy things, including talking to a guy bent on smashing him to bits.

"Hey, big guy!"

The redhead boy from District 11 grunted, flinching at the crude address, but he paused his advance momentarily.

Hiro licked his lips, pressing the compass closer to his chest. He had to try. "I know it's really tempting to kill me right now, but before you do, let me make you an offer…"

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

They had stayed most of their day huddled in the safety of the enclave. Gothel had gone out only once or twice to get them their breakfast and lunch, but for most part, they merely spent the hours conversing with each other over the crashes of the waterfall.

When evening came, Rapunzel had gotten restless and begged that they go back out – to forage for dinner, if nothing else. Gothel had been rather hesitant at letting the blonde go back out, stating that she was fearful that Rapunzel wouldn't be able to recognize the various venomous plants in the Quarter and might accidentally poison herself. The District 8 girl had wanted to point out that she had visited the _'edibles and inedibles' _booth during the training session, but gave up on trying to explain herself after the Career had launched into the same lecture for the third time. Only after much debating, pleading and even flattery, the elder girl let rest her firm protectiveness and both of them went foraging together.

Of course, Gothel still refused to allow Rapunzel to actually touch any of the plants, so the blonde ended up sitting down by a stream, idly throwing sticks into it and watching them flow down the current. When she got bored of that, she examined the brown locks that dangled by the side of her face. Dwelling on the circumstances that led to their unfortunate shortening brought up bad memories for her, so she decided to reflect on her newest ally instead.

The Career was a very trying person to be with. She was terribly impatient, very opinionated and had a habit of talking to her ally as if she was six and not sixteen. Now that she knew the story behind it, the blonde was much more sympathetic and tolerant of the treatment, but the patronizing manner did set her teeth on edge.

All the same, unless she wanted to be alone again, Rapunzel didn't have a choice. During the Feast, Hiro had, for unexplained reasons, blown the entire alliance plan. She had seen Jack's body - frozen and stiff - and assumed him dead. Even though now that she knew it wasn't so, she still had no clue of his whereabouts. Hiccup had obviously chosen his District mate over her – after all, he did have feelings for the blonde Career, and there was a chance that he stay with her – so he was out of the question. Gothel mightn't have been the best company, but she was the best option now.

And it wasn't all that bad. The elder girl fussed over her like a mother hen, making sure that she ate and drank sufficiently, even offering to sing for her once, which she had quickly declined. Considering that the Career found so much in common between her and her late adopted daughter, Rapunzel couldn't imagine Gothel meaning her harm as Eugene had feared.

Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true.

Each time Rapunzel rewound Gothel's story in her head, she couldn't help getting this nagging feeling that there was some inherent error in it. Was it because the tale was too incredible to be true? Well, it was, but Rapunzel had sensed that Gothel's grief was genuine, so she dismissed that thought. Was it because the tale itself was just horrifying? It was, but Rapunzel felt that too was not the true source of her unease.

She brought herself back to the Feast the day before, just after Gothel had saved her from Dagur's blade. After a great internal debate with herself, she had decided to go after the Career girl. She remember that at the distance, she had seen the black-haired girl bandaging her District mate up from his wounds, speaking to him in curt tones before he had suddenly attacked her.

She found herself jabbing the cerebral pause button. _There! That was it!_ That was why it didn't make sense.

Gothel had said that Shen was the one responsible for killing Daphne, which explained her hatred and contempt towards him. But if she truly despised him that much, why hadn't she taken the first opportunity to avenge her daughter? Why had she chosen to show him mercy? She even recalled that Gothel had even mentioned that she was willing to work with Shen and share the victor's crown with him. Perhaps Gothel had opted to be magnanimous at that moment, but somehow Rapunzel couldn't see her being that forgiving. She had loved her daughter too much.

Unless … Shen wasn't entirely to blame.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that the sight of the parachute slowly descending before her almost made her jump out her skin. Glancing around, she noted that Gothel was not in sight, so that meant that this gift was meant for her.

Pushing her worries aside for now, she eagerly grabbed the metal container and undid its latch. Her gift, she discovered, was a small vial, containing a pink, sticky liquid. She sniffed it gingerly, and found that it produced a sweet scent, one that was rather familiar. Capping the vial, she searched the container for a message, hoping that it would be provide some explanation or instruction.

Instead of finding the usual thin slip of paper, she found a thick, large sheet, folded up several times so that it could fit in the box. Bemused, she straightened it out to read it, and her bafflement only increased.

Eugene had sent her … _a __medical report._

The blonde scanned the paper – the document over, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Why on Earth would Eugene send her this?

Then she caught sight of the name at the top –_Daphne Blume._

She was taken aback. Re-examination of the report revealed that it was printed just last year. The same year that Daphne - Gothel's Daphne - died. Then she realized that she wasn't reading just a health report.

She was reading an autopsy.

Rapunzel's eye threatened to fall out their sockets as she began to read the lines more carefully. _'Flash burns to lower face… asphyxiation…signs of convulsion…high levels of mezerein and daphnin…eczema…'_

Wait. Her eyes went back to the earlier line. It was under the toxicology segment of the diagnosis - _'high levels of mezerein and daphnin.'_

She recognized those names. She had remembered learning about it during the training session. Both of them were plant toxins, commonly found in the twigs and berries of a…

Her breath hitched suddenly, bile rising up her throat at the same time.

…commonly found in the roots and berries of a _Daphne mezereum_ plant.

Horror and revulsion swept over her like a tide, and the only thing she couldn't understand was the reason behind it.

Then, she realized that she had mixed up the 'cause of death' segments with the 'appearance at death' segments_. 'Asphyxiation, convulsions, toxicity'_ was under the former, while _'flash burns, cheek avulsion, jaw fracture' _was under the latter.

And the words from the following night came ringing in her head - _"How could she know that those things blow up in your face!"_

Gothel had only said the _' face.'_

Linking it back to other things that the District 1 girl had said before, everything suddenly clicked together.

By this time, Rapunzel figured that the Gamemakers must have prevented Eugene from sending a much simpler message, because if he could, he would have said something like this-

_'YOUR ALLY'S INSANE. RUN!'_

And that was what Rapunzel intended to do, when she heard Gothel's clear voice ring out, "Rapunzel?"

The blonde had gotten to her feet, ready to make a dash for it when the Career had suddenly appeared in front of her.

The elder girl was beaming from cheek to cheek. "There you are."

Rapunzel quickly hid the vial and the report behind her, stepping in front of the parachute, hoping her ally – her apparently deranged and really scary ally – didn't notice it. "Yep, here I am."

"Well, I've gathered all the herbs and vegetables I could find. And guess what else I found?" She didn't wait for Rapunzel to answer, simply shoving a handful of strange looking nuts in front of her. "Hazelnuts! In here!"

"That's…nice." The blonde tried to feign enthusiasm, but failed.

"We can make hazelnut soup! One of my specialties, if I say so myself." Gothel was far too elated to notice her ally's doubtful expression. "Well, come along, dearie. We can prepare dinner together."

_Dinner._ Somehow the thought of it now made Rapunzel especially queasy. She hoped Gothel would turn about and take the lead on the way back to camp, if only to give her chance at running off, but the Career had linked arms with her, dragging her along. Rapunzel tried to shake her off, but Gothel's arm was like an iron chain around her own.

As subtly as she could, the blonde slipped the autopsy report and the vial of liquid into her coat pocket. She managed to keep the façade of ignorance, nodding politely at everything her ally said, but her heart was banging too loudly against her chest for her to actually hear anything. She needed to leave Gothel as soon as she could, but she couldn't rouse the other girl's suspicion. As it was, the Career barely let her leave the enclave.

Then suddenly, she recalled why the scent of liquid in the vial was familiar. Back in District 8, they had used it often on sick children in the orphanage as a cheaper alternative to proper medicine. Just three drops of the stuff, and the feverish child would be sent immediately to sleep, and hopefully recuperate on his own. A vial full of it could knock a person out for a whole day.

And that's all she needed.

"Gothel," she cut in the chatter, then mentally slapped her forehead. She knew that her ally disliked being interrupted.

Fortunately, the District 1 girl was in a good mood. "Yes, dearie?"

She forced herself to give a bright smile. "Could you teach me how to cook hazelnut soup? I think I'd like to learn."

Gothel give her a searching look, and Rapunzel feared that she might have seen through the mask, but eventually, the Career gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, well, why not?"

Rapunzel suppressed a sigh of relief. Slipping her free hand back into her pocket, she clutched the tiny bottle that was now her lifeline.

* * *

**District 1**

**1 year ago**

_When she emerged from the Academy Boardroom, his was the first face she met. The temptation to pull out her dagger and slam it in his skull was strong, but something else held her arms down. It was as if someone had chained weights to her entire body – weights of guilt._

_"I can't believe they let you stay," Shen told her, sneering as he folded his arms._

_She brushed past him, refusing to meet his eyes. He had already won too much._

_"You deserve the firing squad, just like your mother."_

_That was enough to halt her steps. If there was anything she couldn't stand, it was to be compared to the disgusting woman who had raised her._

_She turned on her heel, her grey eyes boring right into his crimson ones, injecting as much scorn as she could muster into her tone. "Fortunately for me, someone else had eliminated the thirty other potential Careers four years ago. The Academy board's willing to cover up for me, so that they can have at least one decent tribute next year."_

_He scowled, as she had expected him too. She tried to take satisfaction in his anger, but she couldn't. There was an awful hollowness in her heart that robbed her any joy that she could ever have anymore._

_His retort was just as abrasive as hers. "Well, at least I killed people I hated. My motives make sense."_

_"As far as I'm concerned, you're the one who killed her," she spat back, but she was hardly convinced of her own words._

_He shook his head "No. It was never my intention to kill Daphne. If I wanted her dead right away, I would have given her a grenade." A taunting smirk appeared on his lips. "No. Her blood's on your head."_

_"You forced my hand!" She argued, her hand slipping into her coat, reaching for the cool handle of her knife._

_Shen made a raspy laugh void of humour. "Do you know even why Daphne befriended me?"_

_"Because she was sorry for your pathetic existence?" she snarled back. The knife was in her hand the next moment, but she didn't plunge it into his torso._

_He must have known that she wanted to hear the real reason, because his grin became even wider. "She and I shared similar problems with parents - parents who always insisted that they knew what was best for us. Parents who always told us they loved us. Parents who always lied to us."_

_"I never lied to Daphne."_

_"Oh? And I suppose 'fireworks' are just 'stars' too?"_

_"I wanted to protect her from you!"_

_"Yes, yes, my parents said similarly things to me before." He waved a hand dismissively towards her, ignoring the knife that she held parallel to her chest. His eyes dart slyly up to her. "Tell me, Gothel, how long did it take to talk yourself into believing that killing her was an act of mercy?"_

_His words stung, but she refuse to let him know that. Her grip on the dagger tightened. "You and I know what it's like to be 'uglies' in this district. In a cruel world, there is no pity for the unfortunate."_

_"And yet you say that your daughter pitied me. What a strange contradiction."_

_"Daphne's too good for this world. The derision, the insults, the bullying – it would break her." Her hands were shaking. "She's not like me."_

_"As fragile as the flower she's named after, but lacking the venom." He gazed upon her in mock sympathy. "So naturally, you had to spare her of that."_

_"But only because I love her!" she insisted, inching forwards towards him. "I couldn't watch her suffer the way I did."_

_He threw his head back, guffawing heartily; each peal marred by the dark undertones. "Oh, I don't think you understand love any better than I do, Gothel." The smile suddenly slipped away, and the boy became deadly serious. "You couldn't bear watching her suffer, like how your mother couldn't bear watching you suffer. So you helped her kick the bucket, so as to spare yourself the misery. A weird, twisted sort of survival instinct, it would seem."_

_"You want misery? I'll give you misery!"_

_She had shoved him against the wall, her strong arms blocking and jamming his own. The tip of his blade hovered right over his throat. He merely glanced down to it, before meeting her gaze. "If I'm truly to blame, then go on, kill me. Avenge Daphne."_

_She clenched her teeth, trying to will herself to make that final blow._

_"No, wait." He pretended to think it over. "You'll have to kill yourself to do that."_

_Her mind roared at her to do it – to end this disgusting white-haired twerp, but she couldn't. Because she knew that he wasn't the one who slipped the Daphne berries into the little girl's porridge in the hospital._

_The dagger fell from her hands, tumbling onto the marble floor. She sank to her knees, and without meaning to, burst into tears._

_Shen merely brushed the dirt of his cloths, stepping pointedly over while she buried her face in her arms._

_"Consider it payback for ruining my life, 'darling' Gothel. Well, at least half the payback." He muttered the last sentence under his breath._

_She waited for him to leave before she dared to glance up again. Down, all the way at the end of the hall, she noted that they had placed a huge mirror, which gave her a perfect view of her own weeping self. A detached voice in her head told her that she shouldn't cry too often in public – it was terribly unattractive._

_She quickly dried the tears, forcing herself back to her feet. She took a deep breath and stood up straight. She had appearance to keep up after all._

_Then she realized, that the strong, confident, beautiful women that looking back at her in the mirror wasn't herself._

_It was her mother._

_Gothel swooped down and picked the knife off the ground. With a screech of fury, she flung it across the hallway. It flew straight into the mirror, and when its tip hit the surface, the glass immediately splintered itself into a million pieces, pouring like a silver shower on the marble._

* * *

**S/N:**

**What a dark chapter. And that's Gothel's even more complicated backstory. Gothel's last name is 'von Mutter' in which Mutter is Mother in German. Daphne's last name is Blume which is German for Flower. I am lame, and too lazy to pick out actual German last name. **

**Daphne mezerum is a real plant, and it is poisonous. The poison can be absorbed through the skin, so don't even touch it – but okay, only big quantities can kill. Children however can be killed with two or three of its bright red berries. And now you know why I really named her Daphne…**

**(P.S. The toxicity of Daphne berries are actually mentioned in chapter 30, where Merida stops herself from eating the berries when she remembers they are poisonous. That was like …a really far off foreshadow.)**

'**The insider' that Eugene is in contact with is the same one from Chapter 17. And bum bum! Blindspots, for all their so-called imperviousness, does have a few cameras and it can be hacked in…if the person knows how to.**

**The sketches that Hiro sees in the Muttation Manual are the ones that Hiccup drew in Chapter 19, and it came to me as a surprise that I actually wrote in a scene there with Hiccup sketching Honey Lemon there. **

**As the tribute numbers drop, the bigger Hiro's hero arch is gonna be.**

**Up Next: Meltdown. Warning – Possible Character Death.**

* * *

**A/N: Hi. Studying.**

**There are still about 8 chapters left to this story, so ****I've decided after much personal debate that I'll be switching updates back to ****once a fortnight. **

**And at around chapter 40 (sometime in July, I imagine)****depending on how much my studies have been suffering, I'll probably be going on hiatus till December. **

**I've been trying, but the thing is my chapters are still around 10,000 words****(this one is 9,300)****and it takes me a long time to type it. I'm not going to compromise ****storyline ****by word count, and I ****can't cut chapters ****without ruining story flow. ****I also have to write a 3000 word philosophy essay in feminism and another 3000 original sci-fi ****story for a competition. Basically, my keyboard time can no longer ****be just for this story anymore. Sad, but true. **

**So instead of rushing this story, I'm going to start taking this slow. If I don't study hard for****the next three exams over the next****5 months, I'm pretty much dead. Hope you guys can understand. Yep.**

**I'm going to see if I can answer all your reviews in a sentence or less. Ready?**

**Mailbox:**

**WarriorQueen 14: It's not Helsa, yep, Shen did blow up a kid, but not to kill, Gothel cares about Daph, but she cares more about****herself, Jack/Merida (no ship) has a purpose, the quarter thing wasn't on purpose and 8****chappie a left (grins).**

**Minerbuilder12****: Here's****a bucket, but you may not need it anymore. **

**AnonymousFan****: Shhh, it's a secret (even though it's like super obvious)!**

**the fan man: No offense taken,****Moonsong rocks, number 2 is cool, and I just read a pretty good****slight****Helsa fic (but they don't get married and never will, so maybe that's why it's good).**

**Fed-Ex: Thank you because I had to go through about 4 diff. Drafts of Gothel's possible back stories before coming up with this one, but yeah, now I've made it ugly.**

**Buttermilk and Cookie Butter: agreed in Ocs, and Gothel will cook you soup and probably kill in your sleep too. **

**waveringshadow: here's Gothel****full story, I like little Hans, most alliances have bad stuff coming****and there's a new Peter Pan what!?**

**Red011901: Thanks for pointing out the****age problem, and I have fixed it, so Gothel adopts Daphne when their ages are 11 and 1 respectively.**

**Maggietheawesome: I don't like any ships between****the Big Five, but I****can****tolerate Jelsa****and Jarida, though Jelsa is easier to handle, and Astrid's alive, and yes you caught the cameo.**

**Obsidian Buterfly: Your gues is absolutely correct, so now I hate you for being able to read my mind (it'll wear off soon, no worries), no Baymax, yet.**

**Guest: Oh, Jack mightn't be kissing****anyone and just die, so yeah,****this story is still 'possibly' Jelsa (no promises)****and why doesn't anyone like Jarida? (Checks the category to be ROTG/Frozen) Oh, right. (And I broke the one-sentence rule.) **

**BurningMoon101:****haha, interesting theory, but that sounds even more complicated than mine (still chuckling). **

**Candy Spy: I think Hans isn't****really sadistic, or sick, more like****depraved and overtly ambitious, and I don't****do non-canon ships (but I do allow slight-Jelsas).**

**That one evil girl: Thank you for the cupcake! I can always count on you for virtual food. (And I broke the one-sentence rule again.)**

**Okay so I broke the rule twice. Hmmmph. Well, bye guys. See you in two weeks' time.**

**Review. Ask Questions. Critique.**


	40. Chapter 38: Liquidation

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 38: Liquidation

* * *

**Spring Quarter**

Indigo splattered over the cyan blue sky. Another day in the Arena had passed.

The two girls were safely hidden away in the blindspot, though quite unaware that that was its name. The younger of the duo was currently occupied with stirring the creamy, light-brown mixture inside her frying pan, watching as it thickened and bubbled over the heat of campfire. She wafted its sweet aroma to her nose, breathing it in deeply. She raised the stick again, only for the elder girl to say, "That's quite enough, dearie. Take it off the fire."

Rapunzel obediently removed the pan, placing its charred bottom on the grass to cool. Steam rose from the liquid, while the remaining bubbles still struggled to push themselves from the surface. It was very tempting to stir it again, to cool it faster and to give her hands work, but Gothel repeated, "Just let it settle dear. You'll ruin the texture otherwise."

She nodded, sitting herself down cross-legged, watching the hot, white smoke billowing over the pan, clasping her shaking hands together. Her nerves were dancing on the knife's edge, and it took carefully controlled breathing exercises for her to maintain the semblance of obliviousness. If she gave Gothel any warning signs that she knew the truth about Daphne, who knows what the black-haired girl would do?

She tucked a brown lock behind her right ear, feeling for the long blonde braid hanging behind her back, pressing it against herself. If anything went wrong, her hair was her last hope. Even then, it would only help if she sang fast enough.

For the next ten minutes, she decided to sit on her hands and glue her eyes to the smoke. She hoped she wasn't shaking, because she felt as if there was an earthquake in her heart.

"Has it stopped steaming?" the District 1 Career asked. Gothel was currently preening at herself near the pond.

The back of Rapunzel's throat felt oddly dry, and it took her a moment to swallow, before she squeaked, "Yep. Shall I divide?"

"Oh, let me do that, dearie. You'd just spill it," was Gothel's reply. Rapunzel felt a surge of annoyance – she wasn't incompetent, but she didn't dare voice it. In a matter of fact, her irritation faded off, giving way for worry. Stuffing one hand into her jacket pocket, her fingers found the small vial that Eugene had sent her. If Gothel was the one dividing the soup, she wouldn't have chance to slip the sleeping draught in.

"I'll be really careful," she said, picking up the empty canteen from the grass. It was Gothel's. They had retrieved it from the old Career camp before setting up in the hidden enclave the night before. Gothel had insisted that when they split portions, she would use the canteen, while Rapunzel the frying pan. The elder girl's rationale was that the canteen was the smaller of the two containers, and she wanted to watch her figure – a laughable statement, coming from the Arena. Nonetheless, the clear-cut division of meals would make it easier for the blonde to do what she needed to do without knocking out herself.

Furtively, she pulled the vial out of her coat pocket, keeping it hidden in her palm. Carefully, she removed the cap on the bottle, and raised it over the canteen.

"Move aside, darling. I can't do the division with you in the way."

Rapunzel started when she realized that Gothel was standing right next to her. At the same moment she did, her foot involuntarily jerked against the frying pan, sending some of the soup spilling over.

"Now look at what you did." Gothel was patronising as ever, especially since she was right. Rapunzel blushed, and secretly, she was thankful for the distraction, because Gothel's eyes fell on the frying pan, rather than the canteen. Using her fingers to cover the bottle, she hastily dumped the contents into the container.

"Hand the canteen over, dear."

The liquid was pink in colour, but in the darkness, with only the campfire illuminating the enclave, it was barely noticeable, and if it was, it would be mistaken for water. Still, after handing the canteen over to the elder girl, Rapunzel waited with bated breath for her crime to be discovered.

Thankful, the Career didn't even peer into the canteen, simply dropping it onto the floor, before picking the frying pan up by its handle. Tipping it on its side carefully, she carefully poured the thick, creamy liquid into the other metal container. Heaving an inward sigh of relief, Rapunzel quickly hid the empty bottle back in her pocket.

With the splitting complete, Gothel handed the frying pan to her. "It's a tad hot, dearie. Just be careful."

They didn't have spoons, so they had to drink straight out of their containers. Unfortunately, the frying pan was still very hot, and Rapunzel couldn't even touch the side of the pan without singeing her tongue. Gothel faced similar problems with her own canteen set, so she advised that they both add some of the clear pond water into the soup and stir, so cool it faster. Rapunzel agreed at once, so at the next moment, both girls were holding their containers partially submerged in the pond, gingerly adding a little water to it and stirring the soup vigorously with their sticks.

Watching Gothel stir the soup in her canteen made the blonde relieved, actually. The sleeping medicine had high viscosity, so it might have stayed stuck to the bottom of the container, especially since the soup was so thick. If the District 1 girl decided out of a whim not to finish the soup, then the draught might not be strong enough to send her to sleep. So indeed, mixing the soup helped immensely.

Once both their soups cooled down sufficiently, both girls went down to the fire to begin to eat it. While it smelled delicious, Rapunzel couldn't enjoy a single morsel of it. She was far too absorbed in observing Gothel eat the soup, waiting and waiting for the medicine to take effect.

Eventually, her behavior was noticed. "Is something wrong, Rapunzel?"

She jumped, almost knocking the frying pan over. "N-n-n-no. Nope! Nothing! It's j-just really tasty." She faked a wide smile, pointing the soup with as much enthusiasm as she could will herself to give.

Gothel appeared amused. "Well, drink up then."

She nodded. In a show of eagerness, she took a large gulp of the soup, noting to her chagrin that it was still rather hot, searing the insides of her mouth. As she swallowed, she felt a tingling numbness around her throat and tongue. Laying down her frying pan, she went to the pond and took a long sip of water, hoping to cool of any scalding she had done to herself.

Then she heard Gothel ask, "Do you find the soup a tad sweet?"

She froze, inwardly panicked. The sweet taste of the sleeping syrup was its most distinguishing feature, and since it was such a common medicine, Gothel might just recognize it. She had to play along for what it was worth, though she personally found the soup tasting acrid more than anything else. "Oh, but I like this sweet taste."

"Hmm, I expected it to taste more bitter," Gothel mused, but to Rapunzel relief, she heard the girl swallowing another mouthful of it again.

The blonde then took her seat by the fire again, picking up the frying pan again. This time, she timed her glances carefully, and if Gothel ever look her way, she would quickly lift the pan to her lips and drink some more of the soup. Her carelessness in eating led to her almost choking on one of the leaves in the soup, and she had to pry it off her tongue with her fingers. Gothel told her that that it was merely for flavor and she didn't need to eat it, so she just flung the remnants onto the ground. The leave tasted rather bitter too, actually, and quite unpleasant. She wondered why Gothel was so proud of hazelnut soup, if it left such an unpleasant tang in her mouth.

Or perhaps there was nothing wrong with the soup at all, and being on tenterhooks was just eating her up.

Gothel tried starting conversation with her once or twice, but the blonde could only give short answers, or stammer till the other girl got annoyed. Rapunzel couldn't help it. She didn't like tricking people like this, even people like Gothel, and the uneasiness of her situation made her throat clog up.

She had to remind herself over and over that this wasn't personal - it was just to protect herself. This wasn't like 'handling' Dagur – Gothel wasn't going to die from sleeping draught. She just needed a window for escape.

Suddenly, the canteen slipped from Gothel's hands, falling to the grass. It had landed on its side, and the reminder of the soup, which was a good half-a-serving, came splashing out onto the ground. Rapunzel could only gaze down in horror as the soup dribbled down the stones and soul, wasted.

"Oh, dear. What a shame," lamented Gothel, yet Rapunzel detected that it was not entirely sincere. When she raised her head to meet the other's girls eyes, she realized that there was a dangerous gleam in them.

"So, Rapunzel," the black-haired girl said casually, kicking the canteen away, "are you going to tell me what you put in the soup?"

* * *

The minute she took the first sip, she knew something was wrong. The soup was supposed to be bitter, not sweet. What's more, Rapunzel was an open book and it didn't take Gothel long to put the pieces of the situation together.

She hadn't said anything at first, as to put the blonde to ease as much as possible, to lower her guard. Besides, she didn't want Rapunzel to stop eating her share of the meal, so she waited till the girl had drunken about two-thirds of her own soup, before throwing the canteen to the ground.

Rapunzel's face gave her away immediately. Gothel could only cluck her tongue, half-sorrowful, half-bitter. Bitter like the soup she had made. "So, Rapunzel, are you going to tell me what you put in the soup?"

The green eyes flickered out, spelling out discomfort and guilt, which made Gothel sigh. And here she was imagining that Rapunzel was anything like Daphne.

Her daughter had always been above the evils of the world – the very embodiment of innocence, trust and kindness. Quite the opposite of her unscrupulous adopted mother - a fact that Gothel took pride in. It had always been her intention to let her daughter become, and stay, a better person than herself, which had been why she had taken on the sins of both their families on herself and blackmailed her way to success. It was true that her blonde ally bore an uncanny resemblance to Daphne in everything she did, but it didn't change the truth; Rapunzel was not Daphne, and saving her would never bring her daughter back.

Not unless that golden hair could bring back the dead. And that was a fantasy Gothel didn't dismiss readily.

Nonetheless, this move by Rapunzel was very disappointing, albeit insightful to the girl's true character, and a sharp reminder that again she was indeed not Daphne, for her daughter would have never done such an awful thing.

"I'm extremely sensitive to changes in taste, dearie. A skill that I picked up from eating my mother's half-poisoned concoctions," she explained to the stricken girl, deliberately keeping her own manner nonchalant. "A sweetish, sticky taste – sleeping medicine?"

The blonde swallowed, too shocked to even reply. That was sufficient to confirm Gothel's suspicions.

"Unfortunately for you, my dear." Gothel noticed that Rapunzel was pouring her own soup on the grass, beating her frying pan against the soil a few times, not taking her eyes of the elder girl. "I've been exposed to my fair-share of sleep syrup in my childhood. My mother used to drug me, hoping to kill me with an overdose. In the end, I'd gained immunity to it, which led to my mother being more creative in new - toxins."

Rapunzel's face said nothing, but Gothel noted that the fingers griping the frying pan were trembling. _Poor, sweet child._ Her efforts had indeed come to naught. Letting the girl absorb this news for a second or two, Gothel finally put the million-dollar question out, "Why, Rapunzel? I've been nothing but good to you."

The blonde didn't answer at once, choosing to draw her emptied frying pan to herself as a form of defense. Watching how Rapunzel pressed her feet against the dirt, Gothel could tell that she wanted to run, but resisted doing so. A wise move, since a dagger would take her down quickly enough. The reply that came was garbled and soft.

"Really, Rapunzel," Gothel arched a brow. "I'd think you'd know how much I detest mumbling by now."

The fear on the blonde's face disappeared, contorting into a visage of revulsion. "I did it because I refused to wait around for you to 'mercy-kill' me," her words were measured in pace, and a small, but strong flame burst to life in her eyes, "like you did for Daphne."

The accusation hit Gothel harder than expected, and her mind was whirling out of confusion. "How do you-"

"You can twist the story anyway you like, but facts are facts." Rapunzel produced a white slip of paper from her coat pocket, tossing it over the fire, to Gothel's feet.

Perturbed, the elder girl picked it up, unfolding it. "Where-who gave you-"

It was only instinct that kept her from being knocked unconscious, for the blonde girl had taken advantage of her distraction and had crept over, raising her frying pan, prepared to strike. Gothel blocked the pan with one hand, while stretch out a leg to sweep against Rapunzel's, causing her to tumble to the ground. The younger girl attempted to scamper back to her feet, but her blonde plait had gotten caught onto the bark of the tree trunk she had been sitting on, yanking her forcefully back to the Earth.

"You really disappoint me," the Career told her sorrowfully, but the threat in the undertones couldn't be ignored. "I would have killed you more painlessly than others. I know many poisons that let you fall into gentle, sleeping death."

The blonde had parted her lips, wanting to reply, but all that came out was a choking sound. She placed her hand in her throat while she coughed.

Gothel went on, composed as ever, "All the same, you made one mistake dearie." That made the blonde's head jerk up. "You assumed that I would indeed stick to my plan of killing you throughout the course of our interaction. That is, sadly or fortunately, no longer so."

Rapunzel resumed her coughing, massaging her throat in between each bout. Then her movements suddenly paused, and her gaze fell onto the abandoned hazelnut soup spilled on the grass, her fingers prying out the one of the leaves in the mixture. Realization dawned in her emerald eyes, and she shot Gothel an alarmed look.

"Exposure to many poisons built up my immunity, so I can take a little. You, on the hand, took a concentrated dose. My doing, of course, since I didn't let you stir the soup before dividing the portions. Most of the aconitum would have settled on at the base of the frying pan."

Rapunzel immediately threw down the leaf, grabbing the blonde braid from behind her, anxiously scooping the gold strands towards her throat. She opened her mouth to sing, but all she could do was cough again. Then she tried again, but there was no sound, and there was no song. Desperately, she cleared her throat and tried again, to no avail.

"Don't bother, dearie. The aconite paralyses your mouth a few moments after consumption. Your voice box, larynx – everything's been shut down, dearie." Rapunzel stared at her, fear and dismay marked all over her face, while she struggled to even make a whimper. "It won't kill you immediately, since the dosage is relatively low. But eventually the paralysis will spread to the rest of your muscles, and to your lungs, and-" her voice became graver "-your _heart_."

Rapunzel scowled at her in brave defiance, before running over to the lake, no doubt to take a long drink and hope the effects would go away. Gothel had no worries that she would try to do anything like escaping again – once the headaches and dizziness set in, she would be too disorientated to even walk straight.

"I'm her only hope, you know," she spoke louder now, turning her eyes to the skies. Pointing at the crumpled autopsy report, she continued, "This only proves that you are listening, and that her life means something to you."

Giving the report a distasteful look, she tossed it in the fire, before turning her eyes to the skies again. "I'm willing to make a deal. I don't want to kill Rapunzel, but I will, if it's the only way I can get a band." She was aware that the blonde was staring at her as if she was mad, but now she was more certain than ever that she was right about this little scheme. She had always been bright enough to crack the puzzles. It was her intelligence that kept her alive after years' of her father's abuse and her mother's poisoning.

For all their strengths, her parents were failures. They never got reaped, spent their whole lives resenting people around them and getting themselves killed in the most pathetic fashion possible. She was nothing like them, especially not her mother. She was a survivor.

"So here's how it works; you help me find the District 3 boy and make him give a band to me - _willingly_. In exchange, I'll sing for Rapunzel, and both of us can be saved, by whatever hare-brained escape plan you all have. Otherwise, I'll just pry it off her cold body. What do you say?"

The spring sky made no comment, and all was quiet, except for the sound of Rapunzel's retching. Gothel waited a moment or two, before adding, "You should hurry. She only has eight hours at most. And there are no known cures for aconite."

The blonde paused her expulsion to give her a hard glare, but she made no move to flee. She knew that the Career was right – Gothel was her only hope.

It was a quiet second or two before the taller girl spotted a parachute floating down from the sky. She reached out and opened the container. Inside, there was a compass – one that didn't point North, she observed - and its underside had instructions on it. There were several insults written on the bottom, but Gothel was in far too good a mood to be affected.

"Come on, Rapunzel," she addressed her black-faced and highly unwilling ally. "We're going on a little midnight trip."

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

He was in the ice castle again.

His head was raised up, his eyes taking in every single detail; the slender, smooth ice palisades; the translucent, glowing pillars, chipped and carved to perfection; the hexagonal tiles that decorated the interior of the grand palace. There were no words that he could have used to describe the immense wonder he had at that moment.

He felt a cool wind kiss his cheek, and turned in that direction. He noted the doors on the upper foyer had opened themselves, and out stepped she, the Queen of Ice and Snow, garbed in her resplendent blue and white gown with a shimmering train on the tail. Crystal shoes clinked against the icy floor as she approached the ice railing, gazing down at him. Her eyes shone as blue as sky, a mesmerizing violet glow held within them. Her white-gold hair twisted in a complicated braid, resting over her shoulder.

Part of him wanted crash down to his knees - to offer some kind of respect towards the goddess, whom he had such the fortune of ever laying eyes on. A smaller, suppressed part of him, however, begged him to move his feet, to flee while he still could. He couldn't understand these warning voices, probably because he was too absorbed in letting his mouth fall open, his eyes glued to the figure of icy perfection.

Her face was unreadable, and her eyes met his with only cold interest. Then, slowly, she lifted one of her hands towards him - flawless, slender fingers that seemed to have been chiselled from the finest marble. He registered a flick in her wrist, before a beryl ball of light burst into existence, traveling rapidly from its creator towards the gawking boy standing below.

And he woke up, gasping, a hand automatically pressed against his chest. He felt it again - the icy plague within his heart - spreading its vines into his veins and arteries, sending spasms of cold all over him. He grunted as a chill ran from his torso, up to his neck, and then to _-UGGGHHH!_

His skull rattled against his brain, and he could almost hear the vibrations echoing in the hollows of his own bones. There was sweat leaking down from the roots of his hair - hair that he knew was transformed again to a more pallid shade. Because of the cold in the exterior, the perspiration froze on his skin, forming beads of crystal that he quickly wiped away. He had enough frostbite, thank you.

The redhead leaning against his shoulder shuddered. A homeostatic response to the sudden drop in temperature, no doubt. Instead of moving away, however, she snuggled closer against him, trying to steal warmth that he didn't have. He had no heart to shift away, fearful of waking her up. For all the tough stances she liked to put up, she sure looked vulnerable in her slumber. She hugged her bow the way a child would hug a teddy, though the splint around her left arm prevented her from clutching it as closely to her body as she would have liked to.

The bandage and the medicine that he had given her were courtesy of Bunnymund, present as a token of good will. He hadn't been joking – he really would try to protect her, not because she was really worthy of his protection, or because he was sorry for her, but because if he didn't have someone to protect, he was pretty sure he would just tear off the coats and let hypothermia take him. Besides, Merida's gruffness was just for show, and she didn't have a bad heart.

Doing his best not to move his upper body, he reached out right hand, feeling on the ground for his own weapon. A warm sensation met his hand as he did, and he found himself taking his time to slosh around before eventually yanking his staff up. He pulled the dripping, soaked pole towards himself, gripping its centre tensely while he forced himself take measured breaths.

_Wait. _Why was his staff wet?

His disbelieving gaze travelled from the pole to the ground, and then his shock just heightened exponentially.

He and Merida were sitting in the cave, waist high in water.

He shook the redheaded girl with a bit more vehemence than he usually possessed. "Hey, get up."

Jack heard her grumbled something about more time, so he shook her again more firmly. Finally, the girl's eyes opened and she yawned, snapping, "What is it?"

"The cave's flooded."

That got her attention. "WHAT?"

She shot up straight, examining the scene for herself. Their campfire had been extinguished, and was now buried under the water. The only light available was that of the moon, reflecting off the aqueous surface, rippled streaks of white reflecting against the cave roof. The ice that had once lined the cavern interior had vanished, and Jack realized that the same applied to the outside. The snow-covered pines were now very much snowless, and the shape of the frozen lake outside had disappeared under the rising the water levels.

"Everything's melting," Merida was just as aghast as he was. "It's like the Gamemakers raised the temperatures or something."

"But that would mean that-" he broke off when they heard a resounding _twaaaaacccccckkkkk_ outside. Both of them scrambled to their feet at once, trying not to slip and shivering when their damp pants met the cool draft sweeping in. Merida quickly strapped her quiver on herself, swinging her bow over her shoulder, while Jack tightened his hold on his staff.

They exited the cave, hand in hand- it wasn't out of comfort as much as security. The ever-rising water was murky, mixed with loosened soil and stony sediments, so they could barely tell what they were stepping on. Jack was grateful indeed for the new boots, which had helped to protect his feet from most unseen elements.

Out of the cavern's cover, they were presented with the leaking, dripping landscape that was the Winter Quarter, though it was looking less and less 'wintery' each second. It was quite like looking at a water-colour painting with far too much water, and the colors started to meld and mix together, turning the world into a hypnotic slush of azure and white.

"Look!" The redhead drew his attention to the mountains, where white smog billowed over cascades of toppling snow. Down from the peaks ran milky waterfalls – a mixture of snow and rocks. Large sheets of ice tore themselves away from their old stony faces, before slipping down as well, crashing to the mountain base with a boom. It was quite a sight, almost beautiful, but danger was written well-between the lines. He had never anything like it – no reason to in District 10 – but he had read about then before, in one of those education books with Emma. Consider how close they were to the proximity of the phenomenon, it couldn't be good.

"We're going to need higher ground," he told her. The water that had been swathed around their ankles has climbed to their knees. A sudden gust of warmth smacked both their bodies, only for a chill to strike right after, sending their teeth chattering and their bones tingling.

"Well, the mountain's crumbling, so we can't go there," Merida answered. She kept an impassive expression, but Jack could see traces of worry in her blue eyes. She releases her right hand from him to start unwrapping the cast on her left.

Jack gave the surrounding another look-over, but suggesting, "How 'bout the trees? We could climb till the water recedes."

"Okay." Neither of them mentioned the possibility that it may never happen. The death recap for today had been empty so far, so it won't be much of a surprise if the Gamemakers got thirsty for some blood.

They waddled through the flood, the water turning from black-brown to white, gushing pass their legs eagerly. Their arms were spread as far as they could to keep balance, though groans and hisses Merida told him that such an action still hurt for her.

"You okay?" Jack asked, while he plodded forward along with the tide, trying not let it sweep him away. The staff was extremely helpful in keeping him grounded, and each time he felt that he was slipping, he would drive it into the ground and cling to it till he was steady again.

Merida had no such advantage with her bow, but gamely she answered, "Yeah."

The longer they moved, the harder moving it became, because the warmer winds were still freezing, and the water always had a constant supply of melting slush added into itself. Jack could barely feel his feet, and it became laborious task just to drag his leg from one spot to another.

Pointing at conifers several feet before them, he tried to encourage her, "Well, we're almost - _aakkk_!" He felt the ball of his foot knock into something hard under the black liquid – a fallen log, or perhaps a root. Gingerly, he lifted the foot, stepping over whatever it was, before saying, "We'll be there soon."

She didn't answer, but he could hear her panting heavily behind, so it was enough to tell him that she was okay.

And the splash and the shriek that came after was enough to tell him that she wasn't.

Turning his head back, he discovered that she was submerged almost four-fifths into the flood, groping anxiously at the surface while the silted liquid licked her face.

"Jack!" she called to him – no, _pleaded_ him. Then it hit him that a rich girl from the power district wouldn't have the cause to know how to swim any more than a shepherd boy would.

Swishing over, his staff in hand, the answer was automatic. "Hold on!"

Liquid climbed up the bronze curls, the added weight threatening to pull down her head like the rest of her body. She splashed about the water, trying to keep afloat while he made his way to where she was.

He was careful to feel each step before going forward though. It occurred to him that she must have walked into the basin where the frozen lake once was, the sudden depth catching her off-guard. When he felt the ground below him starting to crumble, he quickly hopped back.

"Help! Please!" All traces of bravado slipped away, replace only by anxiety and fear. The water had already risen over his hips, and for Merida, it soon was over her eyes. She took one last gasp, before her head went under.

"No!" He was torn between staying at a safe distance and going into the water after her. Well, for the second option, it would just end up as both of them drowning, but the first wasn't going to save the girl either. He thrust his staff out as far as he could, flailing the hooked end in the water. "Merida, grab on!"

He knew that over the clamor of the rushing waves and the cracking ice, it would take a miracle for her to hear him. For all he knew, she might have passed out in the cold. He stabbed the staff savagely into the darkness against, hoping against hope.

Then, he felt a sharp tug. At first he thought that the crook had gotten stuck on some half-thawed shrubbery, but feeling the sharp double-tug through his frozen fingers, he realized that the miracle had happened.

Digging his heel as deeply into whatever sloshy ground there was below him, he heaved on the staff towards him, clenching his teeth at the exertion. When the mop of red resurfaced, coughing, the relief in his heart was always enough to negate the cold.

Well, almost.

Her entire body was drenched and shaking when he pulled her to higher ground, by his side. The red strands had stuck together, forming long, wet sheets that pressed against her face. In between the gasps and coughs, she was sobbing, so he let her cling to him for a while, patting her head gently.

"It's okay," he told her. When she seemed ready, he helped her to get to her feet, guiding her hands to the safety of his staff, which he had plunged into the ground. "You're okay."

Tears still leaked down her dirt-splattered face, which she tried rub with her equally stained hands. Quite vindictively, she growled in a quivering voice, "I hate water." She sniffed viciously. "And it ruined my hair."

He held back a laugh. Giving her a second or two collect herself, he asked, "Ready to go?"

"Hang on a sec." Keeping her left hand on the staff, her right hand felt for the bow on her shoulder, then for her quiver on her back. From the latter, she drew out an arrow, then asked him, "Could you help me with something?"

He gave her a surprised look.

"Hold my hair in a bundle. Just scoop it up – yeah, like that."

He held the soaked crimson strands in his fist, over her shoulder so that she could see it. Both of them kept one hand on the staff at all times.

Eyeing her drooping locks coldly, she fit the tip of her arrow over one side, before whipping it across. In his shock, Jack let go, and the red curls flopped down to the black water, consumed immediately by the tide.

When he looked at her again, her watery eyes seemed to harden, and she only said, "Weight."

They take each other's hands again, their hands curled around the staff as they marched against the whirling waters. Each time they would raise the staff simultaneously, jab it into the water, then haul their bodies forward, fighting the drift and draft as they methodically approached the steady old tree trunks.

The trees nearest them however were young conifers, and they were far too short or weak to be of any good.

"Head for the old pines," he recommended. His companion nodded dumbly, possibly afraid of betraying her heightening anxiety as the water began to brush her upper elbows.

Navigating into the literal cesspool would have been fun if the situation wasn't so dire. Still, he tried to throw in a quip or two, to at least distract the redhead and himself from the cold.

"Do you know that short-hair suits you?" he remarked as pleasantly as he can, while shoving away an errant tree branch floating in their path.

"I liked my curls," she answered curtly, her eyes still fixed to the water.

"Well, then you can have short and curly hair. That works too."

The conversation took a pause when a particularly powerful current pushed against them. All free hands gripped onto the staff, both them gritting their teeth as a simultaneous gust blew in their faces.

"You know," he yelled against the gust, "if you a pull a face while the wind changes, it'll get stuck that way forever."

Her voice was strained, and the fire in it is barely noticeable. "Is that why you're so ugly?"

He laughed, and when the breeze passed, they carried on.

Most of the pines were tall, sturdy things. The problem was that the branches near them were way out of arm's reach, even for Jack.

"What about that one?" Merida gestured to another pine about two rows down. The lowest branch looked doable, but it was dangerously thin, and the fierce wind smacking on it threatened to snap it off.

But they had no choice, so he answered, "Alright."

The cold of the air was getting less and less apparent, while the chill underwater was getting more and more so. Half way through the journey, Jack had decided to discard his fancy wool coat in favor of mobility. The jetsam increased with the water height, and sticks and twig of increasing sizes swam pass their torso, leaving cuts and tears behind as they did. Below the surface, their legs were struggling to even find a foothold, and it became impossible to stick the staff into the ground if there was one. So he turned the pole vertically, letting it float on the surface.

"It's okay," he told Merida. She had gone pale when the water levels crept up to her shoulders, though she had voiced no fears.

"I'm fine. Don't need to mollycoddle me," she retorted, but he knew that she wasn't really mad. She was too terrified to be so – he could tell by her whitening knuckles on the staff.

It then struck him that the height difference between them was drastic – she was almost a head shorter than him. If the water took them before they could climb to safety, she would be first.

The words they exchange drop as the water ascends. He noted that her agitation was mounting almost uncontrollably by her jerking hands on the staff and her flicking eyes.

"It's okay." He wondered if this was starting to irritate her. She seemed like she about to snarl some objection, when a strong tide slammed against them. Jack felt the ground below him suddenly disappear, and he knew by Merida's intelligible cursing that she did too. Both of their screams were mashed into the crashing of water against bark, and to their horror, the target tree began to groan, bending in accordance to the summons of the tide. Without warning, the entire tree went timber, tipping and tilting before smacking against the water. The greedy waters picked up the log and its branches, carrying it quickly away.

Not that the two teenagers really noticed. The waves tossed the them about, as they clung desperately to the thin, almost fragile piece of wood. Spinning in circles in the whitening gushes, they would have been sucked away in the tide if Jack hadn't been fortunate enough to hit a tree, one that was still rooted down. Pushing himself against it, he then wrapped his arms tightly around his staff, forcing it to a stop. Merida still held the other end, and she pulled herself upwards, her breath ragged and hoarse, before she drew herself by his side.

Both of them pressed themselves to the pine trunks, letting the water bite their skin and sear their flesh as it zoomed by. They held tightly onto the pole too, for extra safety, but the waters were getting too high and too violent.

"Jack?" Her voice was almost completely muffled by the splashing.

Shooting a glance her way, he replied wryly, "Still alive."

There was a pause, then - "I'm scared."

This time his gaze on her lingered. The flood reaching up again, just below her chin, the liquid hands seeming to greedily tug down her cropped locks. Her eyes met his, and he realized how piercing they are, almost like Elsa's.

_Elsa_…if he was with Elsa when this happened, she could just freeze all the water up. Heck! She could freeze the entire quarter up again.

That wasn't the case though. The blue-eyed girl before him wasn't enchantingly beautiful, nor did she have dazzling ice-powers. In spite of her impressive score during the judging, Jack was coming to realize how average she was in the face of a battle neither of them could fight.

She was just a really terrified kid.

"It's okay." It's the fourth time, and it's old news, but he shifted his numb fingers over her frozen one and gave it a squeeze, just to tell her that he meant it.

She didn't believe it though. "It's not, Jack. We're going to die."

"No, we won't." The words – the promise slipped out before he could stop himself. Logically, optimism wasn't inappropriate – both of them should be readying themselves for death, to be drowned or torn up in shreds by the currents. But he had to believe, and he had to make sure she did too. "We're going to get out of this."

"No, we're not." Her answer bordered on a whimper, and she tilted her head up diagonally when the water kissed her chin. "Oh, lord, _no, no, no-_"

"We will get out," Jack repeated with great resolution. He jerked his head up, staring at the tree they were pinned to. The lowest branch was way out of his reach. If he used his staff, he could perhaps hook onto it, but he doubted he'd have the strength to pull himself out on his own. Besides, if he left Merida now, the tides would probably flood her over and drag her down.

Then another idea came to mind.

"Merida. Merida!" She only turned his way at the second call, her eyes bulging at the swirling waves. "We're going to play a little game, okay?"

"A game?" She gasped at him with a bit more acrimony than needed. "We are going to _drown_!"

"Nope, nope." He shook his head, a grin appearing on his lips. "We're going to play a game called, um…" he floundered a little, then - " 'monkeys'."

She was distracted enough to deadpan at him. "You just made that up."

"Nothing beats a spur of the moment game," he replied with as much cheer as he could muster, wagging his eyebrow almost comically at her. Pointing up, he began, "Here's how it goes. You're going climb on me first – on my shoulders, and grab that branch. Then I'll hold up the staff to you, so that you can pull me up."

"We won't be able to balance."

"I'll be holding to the tree trunk."

"M-my arm's broken. I won't be able to climb up, or pull you up either."

"Yes, you can. It's not that broken."

"It's my arm. Shouldn't I know?"

"Merida, you need to trust me, and you need trust yourself."

She was hesitant, but he'd give it to her, she had gumption. Sliding up towards him, her head angled up away from the water, she gulped, staring into his eyes, before saying, "Here goes nothing."

After hooking the crook of his staff to one of his arms, he helped her the best he could as she scrambled up his person. He had given Emma several piggyback rides before, and honestly the redhead didn't weight very much, so it wasn't as hard as it could have been. Once or twice she pulled on his hair, or stamped on one of his appendages, which hurt especially on his raw, fraying skin, but he held his tongue. Her nerves were teetering on breaking point – he didn't need to add fuel to the fire.

When her feet got on his shoulders, he winced a little when the sole touched the site of his old wound. Still, he grabbed onto her ankles, pressing himself against the tree trunk for balance.

"I don't think I can do this without us toppling over, Jack," he heard her shaky voice above him. He could feel her knees on the verge of buckling.

"You can, Red," he insisted firmly. The water was now reaching his shoulders, and he was starting to get why she had felt so jittery. "If you don't, we're both going to die."

He heard something that sounded like a choked whimper, before he felt her straightening her legs. He dug his own feet into mud, grimacing slightly at the fresh abrasions the jabbing debris provided.

In spite of the situation, he found weird inspiration to start a song based on his impromptu 'game',

_"Two little monkeys,_

_running from the flood._

_One climbing up the tree,_

_The other's stuck in mud._

_When the water rises,_

_The second monkey screams…"_

He paused. That took a suddenly macabre turn. Since he couldn't think of many words that rhymed with 'scream', he decided to plagiarize,

_"Merrily, merrily, merrily,_

_Life is but a dream."_

"Do-o the world a fa-favor, Jack." He heard Merida mutter overhead, teeth chattering in the cold. "Don't be a song-writer."

He chuckled, trying to ignore how the waves were lapping around his collarbones. He couldn't look up while she stood on him, so he asked instead, "Reached it yet?"

He could tell by the added pressure on his shoulders that she straining to reach it. "Almost."

"Great." In that second, the water washed up on his Adam's apple. "Um, could you hurry?"

"Trying," Merida spat, partially in annoyance, partially in anxiousness. He felt her bend her knees, before shooting herself into the air, seeming to force him down another inch into the flood as she did. The leap, however, worked, because now she was swinging on the pine branch. He gave a whoop and whistle as she hooked her ankle around it, pulling herself up till she was sitting upright against the trunk.

"Pass it!" She shouted at him over the din. Without waiting,Jack raised the staff towards her, and she grabbed the crook with both her hands, dragging it up.

He was much heavier than her, but she was a strong lass, and he was shocked to find himself being lifted up of the flood. In good time too, since it had swelled up another couple inches, and the rocky waves beat against the trees and stones, thrashing about like a provoked serpent in the tide.

Each heave earned a grunt from her, and he worried that she might not have the full strength to pull him up completely. The damp on the staff also made it hard for him to maintain his grip, and he had to dig his nails into the wood just to hold on.

"Almost…" she grunted, "…almost."

When he was within reach, he let one hand go of the staff, stretching towards her. She immediately took him up by the wrist, and their grips tightened around each other.

And then it came again. The awful constriction in his chest, like a fire bursting in his heart. Except this fire brought no heat, but cold. A fierce, powerful cold, that wove into the fibre of his body, sending him jerking and trembling. He felt one chill run up the nape of his neck, while another part up his arm.

The memory of what happened next was a blur. When the cold spells struck him, she must have gotten a shock or something, because she let go of both his hand and his staff. He remembered was seeing Merida's horrified blue eyes before gravity pulled him down, the staff the only thing still in hand. He slapped the water's surface, and he heard fragments of a scream before his ears were filled with the roar of the waves.

One of the swirling vortexes must have sucked him under, pulling him below into the depth, carrying him to who knows where. He didn't care, because he was too busy feeling cold, too busy trying to breath.

He must have hit his head against something, because the last thing he saw was the gleaming, perfect moon over the black water.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

"JACK!"

She scanned the rushing waters anxiously, desperately for any sight of the white-brown head bobbing someone. But no, she could see nothing but bristled old pines standing firmly against the torrents.

"JACK!"

Her hand still hurt. It was burning and screaming in agony, but it was nothing compared to the torment in her soul.

"JACK!"

There was no answer, only the brutal howl of the wind.

A sob escaped her lips, as she crumpled against the tree trunk, holding both her arms to her chest. Why did she let go?

She glanced down at the burnt hand. There was actually no evidence of any scorching. Rather, it was covered with icy frost, which she quickly brushed off. She placed the numb hand against her neck, trying to warm it.

How had the snow gotten onto her hand? Hadn't all the snow melted? Or maybe it wasn't natural snow. Hadn't she seen a blue glow around Jack's hand before she had let it go?

But it didn't matter now. Jack was gone, eaten by the tide, because of her stupid mistake. Like Wee Dingwall. Like Vanellope.

She huddled herself against the pine's bark, shuddering in her sodden clothes, praying for a miracle for her lost companion. Trickles of dirty water splattered down her hair and face as she lifted her face to the moon.

It was stupid, but she did it anyway. "Please," she pleaded the unmoving white plate in the sky. "_Please, please, please-_"

Her answer was a cannon shot.

At that moment, all her inhibition had been torn down. The hard face she had put up for the Capitol, for her family, for herself – it was all torn away. She hugged her knees tightly to herself, letting the tears fall freely while she was reduced to a blubbering mess.

She was scared. So, so scared. And she really wanted to go home.

The cold moon offered no comfort to the weeping child sitting alone on the barren pine. The water gushed below the branches, gurgling gleefully to have taken a victim.

* * *

**S/N:**

**I'm ****too proud of the chapter title. It came to me as a delightful epiphany. **

**Aconitum a.k.a Monkshood a.k.a Wolf's bane has a distinctively bitter taste, which is why the hazelnut soup tasted bitter. Rapunzel wouldn't know, since she's never had the soup before. Upon consumption, aconite leaves a burning sensation on the tongue too, and Rapunzel actually feels it, but with the soup being so hot, she assumes it's just scalding from the heat. Gothel planned it all very carefully. **

**Jack has ice-powers!****(If you missed it, read the last but again)****And he drowns.****Well, that's a downer. **

**The monkey song was a weird spur of the moment thing. It started out okay, then suddenly went morbid. **

**Up Next: ****WARNING:****Confirmed ****character death. There will only be eight players left in the game at the end of the next chapter. ****Bring your umbrellas – there's a storm coming.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**This was going to be longer, then I told myself – no 10, 000 words chapters anymore. I'm sure you guys love them, but I really don't… urgh.**

**Mailbox:**

**WarriorQueen14: Gothel's such a sad, twisted creature. Poor Punzie hardly stands a chance now.****Spotted the Pokemon reference – haha.****Really, the odds of Team Viking are looking up. **

**BurningMoon101: At the end of it, she realized that she was becoming her own mum,****so she's struggling to do something about that - don't worry. It'll be explained. **

**Waveringshadow: Look like the attempt to get Rapunzel out failed after all – oh dear.****Glad you like the cute stuff, because things are getting worse now. I'm a huge fan of the 2003 Peter****Pan, so it's gonna be hard to meet my standards, but I put up with Hook before, so that works too. **

**Riverfall: I think I heard of the uglies series, but no, not related. Shen probably didn't know Gothel before she blackmailed his family, but after he vowed to take revenge, he****probably did some research on her and her family, like interviewing the Peacekeepers that arrested her mum, or old neighbours, and stuff like that. Jack has ice-powers, sorta, now. He's also busy drowning. The mystery of Hans will be solved approximately two chapters from now – but definitely, he's not quite the movie-Hans.****(Hint: He really does have a thing for Elsa). Jarida friendship here is essentially a parallel relationship between Jack and his sister, so yep.****Honestly, putting Night Fury saliva on his neck or drinking it won't actually heal Hiccup's neck damage, because his windpipe is inaccessible both ways, but whatever, I'm gonna ignore it.****Astrid****is pretty darn confused by now, because she's been taught to play the Career way all her life, only to find that it doesn't work and she doesn't like it. Feelings****for Hiccup? In a romantic way, probably not at the moment, but she thinks he's sorta sweet. She's definitely learning to respect him. **

**That one evil girl: I love food too! My only problem with food is that I can't eat and type at the****same time. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**RED011901: Here's a bucket of darkness again! More soon to come!****Rapunzel's discovery wasn't intentionally like the movie one, but come to think about it, maybe it could be to an extent. **

**Maggietheawesome: Gothel is a bundle of irony, which makes her so dangerously unpredictable, because she's pretty good hypocrisy. You don't trust Hiro? Aww… He's giving you the cutesy face now. Haha. Oh, yeah, more death coming, who-hoo. **

**Awsomaniatica: Haha, maybe I'm building up Gothel because I don't want to get rid of her….or because I just love backstories too much.****Things are only going to spiral downwards from here. Thanks for reviewing anyway! It's such a cheer!**

**MagicWriterK (chap2): If you ever see this, well, welcome on board! And you may learn by now that, yes, this is one rollercoaster of emotion.**

**So…see you guys in two weeks. Wish me luck in my exams…(huzzah, huzzah****–sarcastically).**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **


	41. Chapter 39: Mercy

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 39: Mercy

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

It was raining cats and dogs.

Not literally – though Hiro was certain that the Gamemakers could do that if they had wanted to. But it seemed as if the odds were in his favour today. From the extra briefing he had received for the 'mission' prior to the Games, he had advised to avoid traveling in the Summer Quarter at nights, because of the muttations. But the rainstorm seemed to have driven the dreaded creatures away, for he and his new companion had encountered none of the fearsome beasts the Mutt Manual had described.

"Dose the place we're going to have shelter?" The huge, bulky boy shouted from behind him. For all the stereotypes associated with brawny guys, Ralph – that was indeed the District 11 boy's name – was actually pretty shrewd. When Hiro had presented him the offer, the older boy had questioned him carefully, refusing to take it until all the beans were spilled. Hiro had to waste a precious thirty seconds blacking out the cameras and recorders temporarily before giving him the full explanation out of hearing and sight of the audience.

Before answering the question, Hiro thought back to all the other blind-spots that he had worked in, then said, "Probably not."

Ralph grumbled a little, before grabbing one of the huge leaves off a nearby tree and clutching it over his head.

It had been on Hiro's insistence that they'd start travelling right away instead of waiting till day break. He could feel that the Gamemakers were itching to initiate the endgame, and he needed to finish his job before they did. Besides, after he completed the central mission, he could focus on more -well, at least, - _equally_ important matters like the extraction.

Droplets pour down from above, drenching their hair and clothes, while they climbed up slippery slopes and squished through puddle of mud. He could hear Ralph muttering complaints under his breath, probably because his bulky build proving to be a hindrance in letting him pass through the low hanging brambles of the trees around them. Hiro himself focused on squinting at the sodden map in his hands, trying to work out whether they should go.

A brilliant flash of light nearby made both boys raise their heads, and the subsequent rumble of thunder almost caused them to jump.

"No gap between the strike and thunder. It must be close," he heard Ralph murmur grimly, before they continued on by the faint light from the moon.

As they journeyed on, it became increasingly obvious that the storm was becoming worse. The winds weren't that strong, but rain was punching their heads like needles. That wasn't the worst though – lightning strikes were getting more frequently, sporadically illuminating the skies.

"Don't mean to the party-pooper, kid, but we really need shelter," the older boy told him just as another bolt flared against the blackened clouds. "It's dangerous out here."

"Don't worry," Hiro answered, "I know exactly where the next bolt's going to strike."

Ralph shot him a skeptical look.

"It's just programmed. It all follows a certain pattern - look! The next one's there." He pointed eastwards, and sure enough, a bolt of light appeared right there. Hiro clucked his tongue. Gamemakers were so lazy sometimes.

That was sufficient to assure the elder boy of their safety, so they continued on for the hunt for the hidden door. The descriptions on Hiro's map were all pretty vague though, and it was only pure chance that they found it all.

As they were nearing a giant rock ridge, Hiro almost stumbled over was seemed to be remnants of a firepit.

"Hey, look at this!" He called to the other boy over his shoulder. Then his eyes caught what was written on the walls of the cliff in front of him. The streams of water running from the precipice to the base of the gigantic rock formation had washed most of it away, but he could make out the huge words scrawled over it, _"Come get me, SUCKERS!" _

"Well, that's just offensive," Hiro remarked, squinting critically through the drizzle. "What do you think, Ralph?"

His companion didn't reply, and the District 3 boy only realized that he didn't have a companion anymore when he spun himself around.

"Ralph?" He hollered, feeling an unsettling queasiness building in his gut. He left the dead campfire to hurry back into the woods again, his eyes darting left and right in search for the District 11 boy. With shoulders as wide as mountains and as tall as a tree, the guy couldn't be that hard to find, right?

_Wrong_, apparently, because a good few minutes running around and shouting his ally's name came to nothing. Hiro ended up panting, pressing his crumpled, soak map to his chest, trying to use his supposedly big brain to anaylze the situation. It was unlikely that Ralph would leave his company on purpose - he wanted in on the 'plan' as much as any sane person would. Unless, of course, he didn't trust Hiro, and decided it was safer to make it on his own than trust a short, fast-talking kid. All the same, Hiro didn't quite believe that theory - after all, the answer to that problem would have been to murder him then in the Autumn Quarter. Thus, the only other answer to Ralph's disappearance was that there was something holding him up.

His 'big brain' suddenly started functioning again, and he even made a low chuckle as he pondered on why the solution hadn't occurred to him earlier. After striking the deal with Ralph, he had given him one of the armbands - and yes, it was very difficult to squeeze it onto the thick, meaty wrist of the huge boy, but they managed to anyway. The compass that Gogo had sent him had arrows that pointed in the direction of the location of each arm band. Upon closer observation, he had discovered that each arrow had distance indicators on them, in the form of colours. The two arrows pointing at himself were dark red in color - that meant that it was in near immediate vicinity. The last three arrows pointed away from him. One of the arrows was completely blue, which could have been pointing towards Jack's or Rapunzel's, which meant that the person was really far away.

Hang a sec. _Only one?_

The last two arrows were almost completely red, only their tips were blue. Both arrows were also pointing in close directions. Ralph, and someone else, was close by.

He scampered as he quickly as he could through the sod, so absorbed in his anxiety that he barely noticed the raging storm around him. He tried to be optimistic - perhaps Ralph had run into one of their 'band' gang and was trying to get them on their side. Or maybe they were locked in an epic battle to the death, which would be very unfortunate to his mission.

In the darkness, he would have bypassed the other boy completely if he hadn't heard the familiar hoarse voice jump out of the shadows, "Hey, kid!"

He made a squeak, spinning around, raising his hands over his head as if his puny figure could shield him from any incoming attacks. When he recognized who it was, he heaved as sigh of relief. "Dude, you gave me a heart att- whoa! What happened?"

The huge boy was hanging off a tree, trapped in what the moonlight revealed to a large net, big enough hold a muttation of considerable size - or in this case, a boy of considerable size. At the back of Hiro's head, he couldn't help feeling like he had seen the contraption before, sketched somewhere in the book of Muttations by the hand of another scarwny boy.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Ralph seemed to turn crimson in embarrassment. "I heard something around here, so I went to check on it." He nodded towards another copse some walk away. "_Annnddd_ I stepped on something, then I ended up here. Yeah." His blush deepened, his face almost twisted into a complete scowl.

"Don't fret. I'll get you out," Hiro promised. Setting his waterlogged bag down, he placed his compass on the grass while he sought out the only sharp object he had. The blood on the Megabot was dried and brown, and if he didn't know better, he could have lied to himself that it was just rust. But Hiro knew it wasn't, and that lingering guilt hanging overhead wasn't going to dissipate anytime soon. Nonetheless, it was the only thing he had that could do the job.

"The prongs at the end of the bot are quite sharp," he told his entrapped ally, more to distract himself than to assure the other boy. It was fortunate that the net was only made of cheap nylon, and sawing at it with the little blade wasn't as difficult as it could have been.

In the middle of slicing off the third cord, Hiro's eye fell back down to the compass strewn on the grass. Now there were three red arrows pointing towards him, still one blue pointing elsewhere, and one red with a blue tip still pointing away.

"Hey, you said that you heard something just now, right?" he asked the big boy while working through the fourth knot.

"Yep, up ahead, over there." Ralph nodded towards a dark-lit copse approximately a stone's throw away.

Glancing at that spot, then back at the compass, a new nagging sensation began to bother Hiro. It was an intangible, magnetic pull that told him to go towards it, but he shrugged it off, trying to focus on cutting.

"Ow! Watch where you poke that thing."

"Sorry. Dark," Hiro mumbled apologetically. A lightning bolt flashed overhead, providing him with a little light so that he could make out the six cord.

Then, a scream. Even melded with the thunder, he could tell it was a girl's scream, a desperate scream, and it wasn't very far away. In a matter of fact, it was coming from that very copse. A shiver ran down Hiro's spine. He could think of only one person who could fit the criteria.

"Rapunzel," he breathed out, his eyes widening.

"Who?" Ralph was puzzled.

The gears in his brain switched immediately. Tossing the Megabot to the bigger boy, he told him, "I'm going to check it out."

Ralph barely managed to grab hold of the metallic chain that was thrown in his face. "What? Are you nuts, kid?"

Another scream came from the copse, the same voice, but the anxiety and fear in it seemed to have increased tenfold. This time when Hiro spoke to Ralph, there was no hesitation. "Someone needs to help."

The elder boy called him after, warning him against it, but Hiro didn't-couldn't listen. Well, for one, the wind beating so roughly against the brambles above him, and the rain pelting down like liquid arrows, it was a wonder if anything could even be heard. The main reason, of course, was that Hiro had a promise to keep, and he'd be damned if he missed the opportunity to save someone again.

He had picked his compass up before dashing off, angling it such that it caught onto the moonlight. Speeding forward over the crags and muddy puddles, gritting his teeth against the chill, his search brought him to what seemed to be a tree with a coil of yellow rope twined around it.

Except it wasn't rope. It was hair.

When the bolt of light struck in the heavens above, he caught a glimpse of a figure kneeling, or perhaps collapsed. Bound by the wrist to the same tree – bound in her own golden hair, her emerald oculars gleaming with surprise when they met his.

"Rapunzel!" He scampered towards her, dropping to his own knees and letting the compass from his hands. She shifted away instinctively from him, which he had assumed that was because she was afraid – she still saw him as a competitor, and he still owed her an explanation for the events of the Feast. He spoke soothingly, the way he imagined Tadashi would speak, "I'm going to get you out. Don't worry."

He wished that he hadn't left the only sharp object he had with Ralph – otherwise, he could have made quicker work of the bondage. Still, his nimble fingers were pretty good at loosening the knots. The blonde girl however seemed agitated, yanking her arms from him more than once, as if she didn't want him to undo them.

"Hey, hey! You really need to chillax," he told her, trying keep patient as he grabbed onto the knot again, slightly frustrated that she had managed to reverse his work. She shook her head insistently, her gaze flitting anxiously around. In the intermittent flashes of light, he could make out her mouth moving, but not an audible word emerging from it.

"What?" he yelled at her just as a rumble of thunder came from above. He noted that she pursed her lips together, as if thinking, before she mouth something he couldn't read several times.

The message was lost on him, but he gained something else instead. "You can't talk."

She nodded, almost smiling that he had caught onto that, before turning her head a coughing violently. Hiro frowned as he gazed at her. Then who was it that screamed earlier?

It was only then he realized how she had scrunched her body up in agony, how abnormal cold her skin was, and how her arms shook as if they were about break.

_Her arms…_ his eyes fell over to her left one, bare and thin, soaked in rain and eyes widened. "Where's your band?"

She only shook her head wildly in response. So instead, his gaze fell to the compass on the grass. One blue arrow, one red arrow with a blue tip pointing from the direction he had come from – that must be Ralph's, and three red arrows pointing at him.

Or maybe two red arrows pointing at him, and one red arrow pointing _behind_ him.

It was right after Rapunzel made a soundless scream that he heard a frigid voice behind him - "If it isn't the little hero of the hour."

Slowly, he spun around, straightening his knees, when he found the glittering edge of a dagger directed at his neck. Gray eyes gleamed in the darkness. The tall, raven-haired career standing before him greeted him, "Hello, Hiro."

In her left hand, he spotted a compass, not unlike his own, but that wasn't what he focused on. He had eyes only for the silver band that dangled from that arm.

* * *

If the boy was nervous, or in any way fearful, he managed to hide it well. He really wasn't expecting this, but Gothel supposed that there weren't many ways that his cronies outside the Game could warn him without giving away themselves at this point. Or perhaps they ran out of resources to do so. Well, she couldn't care less, as long as she got what she wanted.

"Admiring my little acquisition?" she asked of him, noting how he stared the steel bracelet. She lifted the arm higher, feeling smug at how he swallowed at the sight of it.

"Oh, yes," she told him, cruel amusement seeping through her every word, "I know the significance. I'm no fool." She made a low chuckle, before smirking at him, poking the blade lightly on his chest, almost making him tumble over the struggling blonde behind him.

The boy's expression seemed to darken. "It isn't yours."

"Well, you can just give her another one, can't you?" She counted the bands he had around his own wrist. "You have more than enough." She grimaced as she heard Rapunzel make a strained wheeze.

Hiro's face of anger transformed to horror, sizing up the sickly girl, before demanding of the Career, "What did you do to her?"

"Aconite poisoning," Gothel answered, shrugging lightly. "If you don't give me what I want, well, she dies." The frail, kneeling girl doubled over suddenly, retching out the content of her stomach, which by now was just bile and acid. On their journey to the Summer Quarter, she had three sessions of vomiting to get rid of the toxic dinner, not that it lessened the effects of the aconite in any way. "So have we reached an accord?"

The District 3 boy fell silent, conflict written all over his mien as watched his ally struggle. Gothel smiled, a familiar sense of victory swelling in her chest. Her only regret was that the vicious woman who raised her never had the opportunity to see her triumphs. Nor the little girl whom she had loved so dearly.

The smile faltered slightly, before curling into a frown. Gothel's voice became sharper, biting, "What will it be, Hiro? We don't have a lot of time before-"

"No."

She was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"No." He lifted his head, his dark eyes boring into her own.

Incredulity - "You'd sentence her to death?"

"No. There're other ways of saving her."

She snorted at him, throwing her head back to laugh. "There's no cure for aconite poisoning. Her sponsors, and your 'outsiders', already know that. There's nothing they can send that would save her."

"No cure, yes, but they haven't considered something else," the boy countered, his brows narrowing down. "Breathing masks. They could send a breathing mask."

Gothel widened her eyes, and this time, he was the one smirking at her. The confidence that she had felt melted away, replaced by chagrin. There was no cure for aconite, true, but flushing the body with oxygen would be able to keep a person alive indefinitely, till better treatments could be obtained. Treatments _outside_ the Arena.

"There's only a slight chance," she countered, still shaken that her meticulous planning had missed this possibility.

"I'd rather risk it than give a spot to you," Hiro replied hotly. In the background, Rapunzel was making pained noises, but the little boy paid no attention, drawing himself up straight. In a matter of fact, he seemed as if he had spurt up in height, his glare matching the intensity of the Career's in every way, even if he was a whole head shorter and he was unarmed. "People like you don't deserve to be saved."

Gothel gave him a sidelong glance, hoping that he didn't notice how unsettled she truly was. "Not very compassionate, don't you think?"

"You mistake me for my brother." His voice was taunting, jeering. "Oh, and F.Y.I.-" he gestured to his bands around his wrist, "-I have the master control for all the bands. If I switch off yours, you won't get in on the 'out' plan. So, yeah." He shrugged his shoulders. "_Impasse_."

She couldn't help scowling. Her muscles tightened, and her forehead creased. She wanted to survive – she _would_ survive. She would not fail, like her parents - like her 'mother'. She was strong, beautiful, confident, and a survivor.

Then it occurred to her. The boy was a little too confident for someone who was unarmed.

He was _stalling_.

Her ears immediately picked movement towards her left. Whoever it was trying to be stealthy, which was pretty hilarious, considering her eyes could already make out his shape against the trees.

"You want me to the bad guy, dearie? Fine." Her tone was quiet, impassive, a terrifying fire burning in her steel eyes. "Now I'm the bad guy."

She jerked her body leftwards, flinging the knife in her hand at the silhouette in the shadows.

"No!" Hiro's shout was mixed with the pained howl of her target. She heard a body crashing back somewhere, knocking against branches and bushes. When she turned to face him again this time, the littler boy gulped.

"Let's reset the rules then," Gothel said to him, smiling almost pleasantly. "You give me in on your 'thing', or I carve your heart out."

The boy didn't answer, stricken and fearful.

"Alright, then." She lifted the flap of her coat, sliding out a new dagger. Instead of brandishing it the boy, she directed it at the blonde under the tree. "You give me in, or I kill her, and no breathing mask or funny ideas will be able to save her."

His gaze followed the blade, before he said, "Um, kill who?"

"Rapunzel, you dolt-" it was then Gothel realized that there was no one bound to the tree anymore.

She was completely unprepared when the blonde girl suddenly reappeared, carrying what seemed to be a log and whacking it across her face. Gasping, Gothel tumbled back, one hand immediately going to fresh abrasion across her cheek. The tattered skin that her fingers traced out made her blood boil.

"C'mon!" Her vision was a bit fuzzy from the blow, but Gothel could make out against the torrents of rain that the District 3 boy was trying to drag the blonde girl with him. Rapunzel however kept pushed him away, shaking her head, sinking back down to her knees. The poison was had already spread to her limbs, doubt, and the girl was losing control of her body. She made feeble, yet strangely clear, gestures telling him to leave - to save himself.

How _noble_. How _kind_. It was something that Daphne would do.

Hiro was reluctant, but when looking at the furious raven-haired girl, he sped off in the woods. Rapunzel remained sprawled on the sodden ground, her breaths getting shorter and sharper, barely able to prop herself up. Her vision was probably clouding up by now, so Gothel was rather surprised to find that the green eyes still managed to fix themselves on herself.

The District 1 girl met the hazy gaze with an impassive one of her own, her eyes darting to the thicket, then back to the blonde. Rapunzel's own eyes were wide and honest enough to convey a simple sentiment – _'Please.' _

The last time Gothel had every felt moved by such an expression was when she was sitting by the hospital bed, holding the arms of a gasping blonde child, her scarred face crumpled in agony; a desperate, silent plea for her mother to save her, unaware it was her 'mother' who had poisoned her in the first place. Yet, somehow, Gothel had found it in herself to harden her heart as she held her dying daughter, ignoring the streaks of tears dripping down her own chin, so completely convinced that it was an act of love.

Shen was always wrong about her. She did understand love, but not love one usually associated with motherhood, or fraternity, or even kindness. No. Gothel's love was bitter, cold, and all-consuming. It was gnarled, twisted and brutal.

Gothel only knew how to love herself.

Under normal circumstances, she would have gutted anyone who touched her face, but the District 1 Career decided that finishing Rapunzel quickly at this point would be an act of mercy. People who touched her face did not deserve mercy, even ones who bore the Daphne's face.

Giving the blonde one final haughty sneer, Gothel spun on her heel, in full pursuit of the black-haired boy.

* * *

Hiro tore through the forest, his feet barely touching the grass.

Ralph was either dead or dying – likely the latter, since he had yet to hear a cannon. Rapunzel was definitely dying. And he had left them both to the filthy, murderous clutches of the Career.

Well, that's what he thought, until he caught the whizzing sound behind him.

He ducked, and the blade flew over him. Letting out a relieved huff, he glanced over his shoulder. Gothel was barreling toward him like a bullet train, determined and unstoppable.

He swore under his breath, willing his skinny legs forward. Another knife flew pass, just missing his shoulder, but the next one that came made a nasty gnash on his forearm.

He winced as he ran on, pressing the new wound, praying and praying that the darkness would shield him from further blows. He couldn't count on it forever, though. Between the both of them, the Career was faster, stronger and better armed – she had a coat full of knives, for heaven's sake! If he didn't do something drastic, she would eventually reach him, and rip into shreds till he let her into the escape plan. As distasteful as such a death sounded, Hiro still found it hard to swallow any notion of giving her band willingly. She was the true Career, the type that had backstabbed and slaughtered his brother. And he meant every word – people like her didn't deserve to be saved.

A mistimed lightning bolt illuminated the forest for a millisecond, providing Gothel with just enough light to fling her next projectile. This one actually hit him - not in his body, but his backpack. He was giving silent thanks for how big the bag was, when an idea struck him like lightning. Or rather, _of _lightning.

Hope, which seemed to have gone on vacation for the last five minutes, finally decided to drop by. But if he was going to stand a chance at this, both of them needed to be on open ground.

He plunged forward, scanning constantly around the gloomy forestry for a clearing. At the same time, he removed the bag from his back, pocketing the knife embedded in the fabric. He then proceeded to unzip it, taking the one thing he needed for this job, before tossing the bag behind some trees he had passed. If he was lucky enough to make through this alive, he'd come back for it.

After hopping around over wet rocks, rolling down a thorn-covered slope and pushing through tangles of vines, he found what he needed – a vast, tree-less expanse, which made him prime target of lightning shocks. Well, it would, if he wasn't able to predict every single bolt. Really, Gamemaker programming needed huge revamping if they wanted to stay competent.

By the blades flying pass his head, he knew that she was still close at his heels. Drawing in a deep inhale, he clutched the leather-bound object closely to his chest. He needed to play this carefully if he didn't want to rouse her suspicions.

There was one bolt that struck to his left, about thirty feet away. Following with a harsh rumble overhead, he spotted another one that struck northeast, around fifteen feet away. He counted thirty seconds between the two strikes – that meant he had ten seconds to move, ten seconds for her to catch up, and ten for them to get in position. He immediately headed off to the southeast direction, counting his steps in his head.

At exactly the fifteenth second, Gothel threw another blade. This one cut him at the tip of his right ear, and that was went he tripped.

When his body slammed against mud, he let the book fly out of his hand, falling flat and open. He groaned, crawling over to it, one hand covering his bloody ear, but his head whirring like a machine, calculating the distance and the time. When his elbows reached the splayed pages of the book, Gothel had reached him. Her knife was poised high, ready to make the final blow, when he raised one open palm towards her. "Stop!"

The girl paused, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Stop! Stop. I-I give up." Quivering, he curled his legs back, pushing his feet onto the book. He slumped his shoulders, making himself look as forlorn and as broken as possible. He hung his head low, peering through the wet, black strands clinging to his forehead.

'_Five seconds,' _the mental counter in his head went off.

Gothel's expression did not change, but she did lower her arm. "Is that so?"

'_Four.'_

"I'll-" he licked his lips, huffing as he pulled his legs together,"-I'll give you in, okay? I'll give you in on the plan, if you don't kill me." He made himself rasp and blubber a little. A little drama never hurt.

'_Three.' _

The grey eyes scrutinized the sniveling, shivering boy, who balanced himself on the flats of his soles on top of the pages of the book.

'_Two.' _

"You're lying."

Hiro halted the pantomime, jerking his head up sharply.

'_One.' _

She lifted the dagger in the air, the silver blade reflecting the blue off the moonlight. Hiro's heart was in his mouth, and he was praying desperately that it would somehow take more than a second for the blade to descend onto him. He wrapped his arms over his head, curling himself into small a ball as possible. To the Capitol viewers and the Career standing over him, it must have appeared as the last weak attempt to avoid the inevitable strike. They probably didn't realize that he did that just to remove his hands from the book pages, leaving the only point of contact with the ground to be his feet.

About half second before '_zero' _went off in his head, the inevitable strike came, but not from Gothel.

A bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens, directly towards them. If you know electrical conduction, you would know that lightning has a tendency to strike the tallest object in proximity. If the object was also an electrical conductor, the likelihood increased greatly.

In that case, a tall girl with an array of metal strapped to her chest, standing straight up with another metallic object raised high, was a preferable conductor, compared to the boy that crounching down. Of course, there was also a chance that the conduction would also pass through the boy's body anyway, but its intensity was muffled by the thick, leather bound book beneath his feet.

The boy squirmed. The girl shrieked.

In milliseconds, it was over.

Hiro was jittery all over – his teeth couldn't stop chattering and his legs were wobbly and numb. He lifted his head out from his arms, and his eyes fell on the District 1 girl - or what was left of her.

Lying horizontal in mud puddles, she made no movement. Her clothes were smoking and shredded, burns and ruptures marking exposed bits of flesh. Her once beautiful face was charred, covered with soot and fractal-like scars. Her intelligent gray eyes were blank, and her cataracts were marred by ugly red lines. Blood was leaking down to her chin, and her arms had fallen limp. The dagger that betrayed her was cast into the dirt.

Hiro spent a few seconds spewing out the contents of his stomach when a cannon shot rang out. Half an arena away, a redhead, clutching to a withered old pine for dear life, heard the same shot, and began to sob.

* * *

The puncture was actually shallower than it felt. Additionally, the Career had flung the knife in the darkness, and her aim was so off that it only struck him in his side. For a smaller, weaker tribute, such a wound could be fatal, but for someone as huge as him, it was almost laughable.

The District 11 tribute rid himself off the knife as quickly as he could, trusting his large arms to protect him against any further dangers that could come. Of course, the wound still irked him, flaring up when he got to his feet and when he tried to move. He grunted, tensing himself and shoving the pain forcefully away, clumsy dabbing his shirt on the hole that marked the injury.. In all honesty, he had worse before. By the time he was fully mobile again, Ralph heard a cannon shot. Anxiety rocked him through like an earthquake. He hobbled forward, calling out for the small boy that was supposed to be his ally.

He found her instead, feeble and frail, straining to breathe as she leaned herself into the tree. He had no idea what her name was, though her gold-spun hair reminded him that she was from District 8. All he knew was that she must have been the one Hiro had tried to rescue, and considering how her forms seemed to be falling into pieces, he had failed. Each heave of her chest seemed to be followed by a weak whimper, and her shoulders were shaking. She seemed terrified at the sight of him – he had threatened her before, during the Feast – and he could tell that she wanted to flee, but her body was rebelling too hard against her.

The Games dictated that he should consider her a hindrance, and he should take relief in that life was slipping from her grip. But the Games had also dictated that he should have seen Vanellope in similar light, and he could never, never reduce her to such.

He squatted down, meeting her eyes. "Hey."

She flinched involuntarily.

He tried again, as gently as a gruff person like him could. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She still seemed tense and untrusting.

He lifted on his left arm, showing the silver band dangling from it, glad that Hiro had made him wear it now. "I'm on your side."

It was only then that she relaxed and Ralph drew nearer.

She was cold – how often she shook told him that. The pelting raindrops didn't help her condition the slightest bit, so he took off his own coat, hanging in the branches over her. It wasn't much of a shelter, but it was the best he could do under circumstances. She offered him a watery smile, before sinking back against the tree trunk, drawing in shrill breaths, her brows drawn together, as if she was trying to force the pain from her mind. He then noted that the strands of hair around her forehead were a dull brown-colour instead of glistening gold. He wondered if this was the cause of her ailment, or maybe a symptom of it, or perhaps neither was the case. Ralph didn't know.

For much of his life, he had been associated with destruction and demolition. He was the breaker, not the fixer, and even he had come to accept that was not always as a bad thing. However, this was one of the times that he was willing to trade an pound of his muscle for some wisdom on healing. Next to the quaking, suffering young blonde girl, he could only feel helpless.

The girl with the long-hair didn't seem to resent his lack of ability, however, showing gratitude for his company by smiling in between wheezes of breath. In one palm, she clutched something golden and shining, and this she handed to him.

He examined it quickly, astounded by how exquisitely-adorn the jewelled sun pendant was. This probably was her token. "What do you want me to do?"

It took much effort for her to put her two palms together and then pull them apart - she wanted him to open it. He did just that and was surprised to find that there were words inscribed within the brooch. He glanced at her. The blonde lifted two trembling fingers to her lips and made twirling gesture with it. When he didn't say anything, she repeated the action. When he finally understood, it made him feel more helpless than ever.

"I'm sorry," he told her, ashamed. "I can't read."

* * *

Hiro staggered through the soggy soil, his pack over his shoulder, the metal container from a fresh parachute in his hand. The rain was starting to let up, only remnants of water caught on leafy overhangs still pattered down. Three silver bands now hung around his left wrist, but somehow he didn't feel very much better. Maybe because the images of the convulsing Career kept playing in his head - bizzare, because he was pretty sure he had his eyes closed.

When he arrived at the copse again, he found Ralph kneeling beside Rapunzel. The big boy appeared to be surprisingly well, and seemed very much relieved to see him. The blonde was the reverse - she was pale, her eyes were shut and she was sitting far too still for a living person.

Being so caught up in his task, he pushed past the muscular boy, and it was fortunate Ralph was too absorb in the circumstances to take offence. Hiro was glad to see the rise and falls of Rapunzel's chest, but they were far too erratic to be healthy. He unlatched the metal container – a gift he had found next to bag on his way back. There was no message attached to it, which showed indeed it had been sent in haste, but he needed no instruction to operate it. It was a small, plastic mask, attached to a flimsy plastic bag containing a clear liquid. He pressed the mask over Rapunzel's mouth and nose, before hitting the buttons on it. The mask turned misty, and white fumes leaked from its side.

Ralph watched him on quietly at first, waiting for about half a minute before asking, "Is it working?"

Hiro laid two his fingers on the side of the blonde's neck. He could still feel the pumping, but it was getting fainter each second.

"Come on," he whispered, wishing that his words could really induce a miracle.

Rapunzel's form made no response, drooping against the tree. The air kept flushing in, trying to push its way through her nostrils and into her system.

It was about a full minute later that Hiro realized that he could no longer make out a heartbeat. It was three whole minutes later before another cannon shot rang out, and he had to finally admitted it to himself.

They lay her down under the tree, and Ralph untangled her hair from the branches so that they could set it around her. From it distance, it appeared like she was resting on a bed of gold, instead of one of sod and stone.

Hiro had expected to feel grief or anger, but he could only feel emptied. Strained. _Exhausted_. It was like his mind had shut down to prevent him from registering the truth – he had failed. He had failed to save her.

He took the mask - who knew when it's come in handy? The mechanical humming from above told them that the hovercrafts were coming. The Gamemakers would want them gone.

"Let's go," he told his ally hoarsely, after he had gathered up all his belongings, including the compass. "We still have the mission."

Ralph didn't answer, his eyes still fixed on the blonde lying in the wet and cold. Hiro prepared himself to speak again when the large boy lifted three fingers of his left hand to his lips, then held it out the girl. After a moment of silence, he then turned to the shorter boy, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement. As they headed back to the graffiti-streaked cliff that he had found earlier, the atmosphere was solemn, like the whole of the Summer Quarter now held a vigil for the departure of the blonde girl.

"Once we're done here, we're going after Jack," Hiro murmured softly to his companion, who gave another nod, though he probably didn't know who Jack was.

Hiro however did not mention the most recent piece of distressing news that he had uncovered. His methods of… _removing_ the District 1 Career girl had come at a great cost. The wiring within the band she had worn – the one that she had stolen from Rapunzel – had gotten fried during her electrocution, and was now effectively rendered useless.

Odds of Five had become odds of four.

* * *

**Game Centre**

"Bodies for 1 and 8 have been removed, sir."

"Good."

"Should we fire a cannon for 10, sir? He's been under for more than thirty minutes."

There was grating sound at the back of the Head Gamemaker's throat. "What does his health status say?"

"...That his heart's still beating, sir?"

"Then he's still alive, you insensate imbecile!" There was an exasperated inhalation, before – "What of his location?"

"Still drawing blanks, sir. Water interference's messing up cameras and tracking."

"Don't give me excuses! Give me results!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

Sgt. Calhourn observed as the Head Gamemaker switched between hissing and barking orders. His irritability was greater than usual, and he hardly stayed in his seat, actively moving about to scrutinize his subordinates work. Beyond doubt, his behavior was becoming increasingly erratic. She tapped her chin in thought. Perhaps it was time to make a new move.

"Run re-runs of 1 and 8's deaths. Most of Panem is just waking, and I want them to know exactly how the tribute count fell to eight. Are we ready for the interviews?"

"Wazowski's ready to run at any time. The first interviewee would only be prepared by nine a.m. real time."

"Well, show re-runs of Winter Quarter too then. Buy us time. Might as well let the 10 boy's fan club know what happened to him, in case they were sleeping in this morning."

The soldier stepped of the dais when Pitch had his head turned away. She immediately headed for the exit, but instead of going down the lift, she found a secluded corner the lobby. Checking that there was no one nearby listening, she pressed the communicator attached to her ear.

Upon hearing the voice on the line, she began, "Sgt. Calhourn reporting, sir. I'm afraid your suspicions are quite correct…"

* * *

**District 12 **

People from the Capitol had coming barging at the Bjorgman door at six in the morning. They had come for her apparently, and they were flustered and frustrated, because they had found her registered home empty. Finding her current residence had required them to commit the abhorrent task of actually talking to the denizens of the Seam, and the pampered creatures ended up being quite short with her before whisking her off to her proper home.

It was then that she learned that sometime early this morning, the tribute count had fallen to eight, and that meant that family interviews were to begin. Unlike the flashy tribute interviews that happened before the Hunger Games itself, the family interviews – which sometimes included interviewing of mentors if the tribute didn't have family – were a more humble affair. The entire thing filmed in the home of the tribute – well, a neater, cleaner version of the home, with the neater, cleaner version of the family.

While some disgusted Capitol attendants polished and rearranged the disarray that was her dankly home, Anna underwent more than a few doll-up procedures, which, while extremely interesting, were tiresome to sit through. After they had made her take a bath, they gave a nice simple dress that was supposed to scream _'poor, simple, humble, yet somehow spotlessly squeaky clean'_. Since the interviews went in the order of the Districts, her interview would be the last, after the Westergaards. Undoubtedly, they would also want to finish off with a bang by interviewing the ice mutant's sister.

While watching the interviews happening in District 5, Anna spent her time rubbing her hands together, even though she didn't really feel cold. She had never been on television before, except for the few seconds during the Reaping before Anna had volunteered. What if she said something stupid and embarrassed herself? Or worse, what if she let slip the truth – that Hans was supposed to be _her_ boyfriend?

She wished Kristoff was here. The boy was as unshakeable as a mountain, though many times just as dense. Somehow though, he had a remarkable knack at keeping clear-headed and giving sound advice. Despite how grouchy he was, he was really was sweet, and his support for her was unwavering as his belief in her insanity.

But Kristoff had to work at the mines this morning, and workers playing truant faced severe punishment, and she wouldn't let him pay such a price on her behalf. So she would face the slender, sleek device with a huge globe sticking out of it – it's a camera, apparently – all on her own, to blabber her mouth off to the whole nation.

"Wow, Anna. You look nervous." It was the strange white-skinned man that had given her the dress and helped her apply the make-up.

He had introduced himself as Olaf, and had declared that he indeed had a great liking for warm hugs. Out of the Capitol crew invading her home and her personal space, she had the least resentment towards him. She recognized him as Elsa's stylist, and she was grateful that he had really done his best in helping her sister.

So when she addressed him, she felt relaxed. "I guess I kinda am. Never done this before."

Before she knew it, she was confiding in him her fears of the screen, like how she feared that she might say something that would forever ruin the image of District 12. She didn't state it explicitly, but she mentioned that she feared she might say something to negate her sister's chance of winning – Hans and Elsa's return hinged entirely on the love story, after all. Her attempts to subtly hint to the paled-skinned stylist the true nature of her sister and Hans relationship fell flat, but something told her that gurgling stylist already knew.

While they were interviewing the family of the District 11 boy, she told him for what must have been the infinite time, "Here goes nothing, I guess."

His patience somehow too was infinite. He chuckled lightly, a springy, laugh that seemed to bubble up from the depth of his soul.

"Nonsense. You need more confidence, Anna. Low levels of confidence are very unhealthy, I assure you." The brisk doctor-like tone he had taken up for the last sentence set her off in giggles. "Tell you what. When you talk to the camera, I'll be standing right behind it. Then, when you talk to the camera, you can pretend you're talking to me. How's that?"

That actually cheered her considerably.

When her turn came, she found herself pelted with question after question by Mike Wazowski through a holographic screen. Olaf's background support, however, put her at ease, and soon she was replying animatedly, even laughing once or twice with the presenter. The interview went along smoothly.

Well, okay, there were rocky bits.

"Anna, did you know Hans before the Games?"

She froze, praying that she misheard. "Sorry?"

"The handsome young redhead from your District?" Mike must have thought she was teasing, because he laughed. "Your possible future brother-in-law, I imagine."

_Future brother-in-law?_ He was supposed to be _her_ boyfriend, not Elsa's. The envy and anger that she had somehow managed to suppress for the last few weeks came back in full force, and she didn't know if she could deal with it without screaming or crying.

She caught Olaf's concerned look over the camera and forced on a smile, though her insides were churning and queasy. "Oh, yes. He's quite a lady's man. Not sure if I trust him with my sister actually." Not sure if she could trust him _at all_, actually, if he couldn't keep a simple commitment.

Mike sounded amused. "Oh, so I'm guessing you're not the biggest fan of your sister's love story?"

_Love?_ What did Elsa know about love? Elsa loved her, yes, because she was family – it was kind of obligatory. But other people, in a _romantic _way? Her sister had spent so much time away from human company that Anna wasn't completely sure that Elsa knew how to even feel that way. And even if she did, was she likely to risk it, knowing how closely-linked her emotions were with her powers?

For the camera though, she made a childish snort. "I just need him to prove himself. Can't have my sister hooked with some unreliable guy, can I?"

"Well, then my reckoning, all he needs to earn your approval is to bring your sister home safely, then?"

That question actually left her dumbfounded. Would that be enough for her to forgive Hans? To forgive him for destroying her teen ideals of romance? True, she would be glad to have Elsa home, no doubt, and now the ice power problem was in the open, she could work with her sister and get the powers under control. Maybe, just maybe, Elsa and her could be best friends again. If he brought her home, she would be in debt.

But could she ever accept him again? She had told herself over and over that he had no further part in her life, but could she stand it if he became a permanent fixture in Elsa's? His acting seemed so real, so good, to the point that she was starting to believe he really had genuine feelings for her blonde sister. Would she, Anna, be able to sacrifice her own comfort, to suppress her own _jealousy_, ant let him come so close to her again, but not as a boyfriend, but as a _brother_?

She could not hold back the bitter thought – _why did everything always revolve around Elsa_?

Before she could answer, Mike interrupted, "Whoa, sorry folks, but it seems that we have to cut this short. Something big's happening in happening in the Arena right now, and I don't think you folks want to miss it live. Anna," the presenter's expression became grim, "you definitely want to see this."

The cameras went down a few seconds later, which was perfect, because Anna tore out of the house immediately, much to the protests of the Captiol staff who wanted the dress back. She ignored them, her boots slapping against the snow has she made a beeline for the Hob.

The black market was throttling in full business as usual, but the attentions of most people there were on the events displayed by the projector. She squeezed through the crowds, uttering half-hearted apologies till she was at the front of the line. There was a sharp gasp from the crowd behind her, and immediately the crowd broke into shocked mutters.

"How could he-"

"There's no other way. He had no choice-"

"The minute she stepped in, the Gamemakers were bound-"

"She said it herself. Even if she had-"

Anna wanted to scream to the throng to shut up and mind their own business, but she couldn't remember how to talk. She could only stare on, wanting to shake her head and somehow dispel whatever her eyes told her to see.

Because her eyes told that her ex-boyfriend was holding a sword over her sister's head.

* * *

**S/N:**

**Aconite poisoning has no cure, but flushing the patient with oxygen can counter the paralysis of the lungs long enough for the body to overcome the toxic effects, and recovery from then is possible. (I can't remember the exact biological process on how it works.) But if not administered soon enough and the paralysis attacks the heart muscles, then, well, that's what happened to poor Rapunzel. **

**So yeah. Jack's not dead. Merida actually heard Gothel's shot. **

**I'm not completely sure if how Hiro 'killed' Gothel is actually possible without himself getting roasted, because being in close proximity with another person - especially since the charge could jump from her to him - so I'm just going to pretend that the book is sufficient to make him an electrical resistor. Some electricity does flow through him however, which is why his body's all jumpy after the shock. **

**If you read THG books, you would know that the District 3 victor Beetee (he's in the movies too) won by electrocuting his remaining competitors in one go. Hiro isn't that bloodthirsty, but I wanted him to link him to Beetee. **

**Oh, I didn't really elaborate on how Gothel's compass worked, but basically it's kind of like Hiro's, except it only has one arrow that points at him.**

**Writing the interview bit for Anna wasn't actually part of my plan, but I thought maybe it'd work as a filler. Sorta. **

**So role call!**

**Death Recap**

**1 - Shen****, Gothel**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Dagur, Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**6 - Turbo, Taffyta**

**7 ****– ****Male &amp; Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno, Rapunzel**

**9 - Nameless Boy, Nameless Girl**

**10 ****– ****Toothiana**

**11 - Vanellope**

**Remaining Players**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup**

**3 - Hiro**

**5 - Merida**

**10 - Jack**

**11 - Ralph**

**12 - Elsa, Hans**

**Known Alliances :**

**Team Vikings: Astrid**** &amp; Hiccup (&amp; Toothless)**

**Team Rebels - Hiro &amp; Ralph**

**STATUS AMBIGUOUS - Team Starcrossed: Hans &amp; Elsa**

**DISBANDED - Team Tangled: Gothel &amp; Rapunzel**

**DISBANDED - ****Team Outliers: Merida &amp; Jack**

**Metal Band Band:**

**Hiro - ****2 bands and 1 circuit-fried band (the one that Gothel stole)**

**Ralph**

**Jack**

**So...that's all for now folks!**

**Up Next: **_**Life's too short, to be such an oblivious fool, so reckless, that I couldn't see...**_

* * *

**A/N: Hi. Long time no see. **

**This chapter is not beta-ed, so sorry about increased typos.**

**Mailbox: (one sentence challenge again!)**

**the fam man: Thank you once again for your lavish praise though I really don't know if I'm worthy of even half of it. **

**ixPinkRoses: Chillax, Jack's not dead yet (oops...).**

**LightMyBulb: (squints critically) Um, okay.**

**SnowflakesandFire: Haha, Jack's not dead, but yes, people will die.**

**WarriorQueen 14: Jack's not dead (I just like being lame and tricking people), Merida's breaking, things really went south for Rapunzel, and I'm not really scared of killing off titular characters (well, I think I'm not.) **

**hiddeninthelibrary: Haha, Jack's not dead, but now poor Rapunzel and Gothel, and Hans/Elsa will be next big thing for next chapter, so stay tuned! **

**electricangel12: I cannot answer your review without revealing spoilers, but I'd say...keep guessing, and delete review buttons would be handy.**

**BurningMoon: Well, your prediction is correct, except that Rapunzel AND Gothel just passed, instead of OR, because I'm cruel, and I like chocolate chip cookies.**

**wavering shadow: There's no plan b, but good news, Jack's not dead...yet. **

**Guest: Good on you for predicting the poisoning - it's something I've been planning for a long time, and I'm proud of it. The cannon shot is another matter though, and the Gamemakers are aware that Jack's alive, though bemused. (And I broke the one sentence rule.)**

**TheCatReadtheBook: I'm not completely sure which hemisphere I stay in actually. It's been ages since I've done geog, so I honestly I can't remember, but you may be right I guess, and hope you enjoy the rest!**

**Maggietheawesome: Yes, animated guys are more attractive then people in real life, and I'm glad that my portrayal of Merida is still satisfactory.**

**ailluazoldyck: I'm really glad that you've enjoyed this story then and now, and Jack isn'g dead yet.**

**So, thanks for the review guys!**

**See ya in like two weeks.**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	42. Chapter 40: Love and Various Complicatio

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 40: Love and Various Complications

* * *

**Note: I made a small but important edit in the previous chapter that will affect something that happens in future chapters, but it's so small I doubt you'd notice it unless you're especially meticulous. It's up to you if you want to re-read the previous chapter. (I can't tell you what it is, because it'd be a spoiler.)**

* * *

**Warning: Very dark moments, dark feelings, dark thoughts, so kindly note the T-rating and grab a pack of chips.**

* * *

Cold. That was the first thing he could think of.

A groan rumbled from the back of his throat, as he slowly heaved his body off the snow-littered ground.

Cold. He could taste on his teeth, and felt it over the tips of his numb fingers. Water rolling down his cheeks froze almost instantly, and the dripping rags that were his clothes hardened into frosty sheets glued to his shuddering form. His joints resisted his will to move them, and staggering haltingly to his feet proved to be a painful endeavor, but not quite as painful as it could have been. Ironically, the cold that made his movements stiff was also the cold that numbed him from the agony.

When the liquid emptied from his ears, he began to hear again, yet all he heard was silence. Unfriendly, but hardly surprising. He didn't expect to find much company in Winter.

Winter. Yes. That's where he must be. That explained the snow.

His eyes swept over the snowdrift automatically, searching for something he didn't know that he wanted to find. When he caught sight of a long wooden staff, with a crook gnarled like a 'G', he bent himself down to pick it up even though his spine felt like it was splintering. The water on the staff hardened to frost on his touch, and his fingers slowly wrapped around the curve twine as he felt a sharp stab of cold in his chest. He clenched his teeth, pressing the butt of the staff to support his wobbling feet.

Taking in a deep breath, he moved forward, not focusing so much on where he was headed as he was on the gazillion needles piercing his soles. Grunting at the exertion, he hobbled with all the feebleness of old man. It wasn't as if his hair color hadn't helped in playing the part.

Had he been more alert, he would have noticed that the trees were maples, draped in red and gold, rather than the brown-spiked pines he'd have expected to see. Had he been able to focus, he would note that snow only appeared when he stepped towards that place. Had he turned around, he would have seen a wall completely constructed of ice, three times taller than him, frozen to the core, lining the border which divided the winter quarter from the autumn one.

* * *

**Lucky Cat Bar**

She had the decency to remove the gum from her mouth before she approached him. Sliding into the seat across his, she felt a strange chill run down her back. Gogo was never the type to be easily shaken. Angered? Yes. Frustrated? Totally. Shaken? No. But the coldness radiating off the man that had been labelled twice 'The Capitol's Hottest' made her tremble like a daisy on a blustery day.

Her façade bore no semblance of fear, however. She played it cool, as she always did. "Hey."

Flynn didn't answer. He didn't even acknowledge her, his eyes fixed solely on the table in front of him, as if the basin of sugar cubes sitting there was terribly interesting.

When he finally spoke, it was still directed to the table. "You're gonna get diabetes at this rate, you know?"

She gave him a bewildered look, because that made no sense. Not until she squinted closely at the wood and made out a shape of some crawling creature. Gogo jerked back, half in surprise, half in disgust, knocking a coffee slightly off its base she did. Whatever-it-was squeaked, and suddenly she could see a green reptile scampering from the sugar bowl, away from her, taking refuge on the shoulder of the brunette man.

She raised a brow. "I wasn't aware that you had a pet frog."

The creature made an indignant sound.

"He wishes to correct you that he's a chameleon," Flynn translated dully, as if such explanations were routine. "And he's not mine."

She eyed the reptile with suspicion, a follow-up inquiry on the tip of her tongue, when she noticed that the creature wore an expression much similar to Flynn's own, and she checked herself. Biting remarks about pets were discarded.

In the end, he broke the silence first. "What do you want?"

Being sensitive was never her strongest point – she was brash and brusque. Now, Honey Lemon, on the other hand, would have probably been able to say this a million times more kindly, and would never be able to sound accusing. "I want to know if you can still do this."

His brows furrowed. "Oh?"

"The mission isn't over, and you still have your part to play."

"_Wow_, and this is coming from the girl who gave herself a breakdown day." His voice was caustic. His arms were folded and he sat up straight. The animal on his shoulder must have concluded that his resting spot was no longer habitable, and hopped back onto the table, hiding behind the salt and pepper shakers.

Gogo grimaced because she couldn't answer it without breaking the carefully cold decorum she chose to wear, so she reiterated instead, "Well, can you do it?

"Can I?" He snorted. "Can I? Of course, I can. That's the only reason why they wanted me, isn't it?" A sardonic chuckle emerged from his throat. "They wanted my connections, my intel, my contacts. And they took, didn't they? They just kept _taking, and taking, and taking_-" his voice swelled, almost rising to a shout, and Gogo was glad that bar was far too noisy for anyone to notice "-but when I asked for one favor - save her – they couldn't." His volume fell, his shoulders slumping as he did, before his handsome features twisted into an ugly sneer. "No, they _wouldn't_."

This was actually worse than she had thought. "Rider, it's no one's fault. They tried. He tried. Somethings just- "Gogo hesitated, because she had heard these words from Wasabi before about a year ago, when she stepped off the stage with the victor's crown over her brow. "Somethings just don't go as planned."

"Of course." His tone was mocking and bitter. "We are mere puppets - ourselves privy to the mercy of the great master players that control our limbs and lives. Expendable, that's what we are. Who cares about people that matter to us? Rapunzel." He gazed at her. "Your boyfriend."

It took her a while or two to figure out who he was talking about. "Tadashi isn't - wasn't my boyfriend," she resisted the urge to snap. "He-I- it was pretty platonic."

Flynn shrugged his shoulders, stirring the coffee cup a little too violently, almost rocking it off its saucer. He threw a glance at the television. The interviews were on District 10 now, and they were interviewing a rather frightened young girl and a plain-looking but surprisingly articulate woman who must have been her mother.

Yet the lack of attention that he gave didn't stop Gogo from going on,"Tadashi was…he was an inspiration. He was crazy, and stupid at times, but he meant well. He had such-," her voice quivered, but only a little, "-such a heart for people. He shouldn't – it shouldn't have been him." Her fists clenched without her noticing. "It shouldn't have been him."

"If you could take his place, would you?"

She was slightly taken aback that he was listening at all, and even more so when the meaning of the words sunk in.

Flynn turned his burning stare on her, challenging. "If you could go back in time, would you die in his place?"

The answer was instant. "Yes."

He searched her face, scanning for any hints or signs of falsehood, but he found none. There was only conviction, because Gogo knew the world was definitely in shortage of compassionate people, and adrenaline junkies, though entertaining, were unnecessary.

He stared at her for a few minutes, which really felt like hours, before he lifted it to watch the chameleon gobble down another cube of sugar. Then he told her, no longer looking her way, "You needn't fret. I'll play my part – won't like it, but I will."

"And you won't go drinking yourself to insensibility?" Her own bluntness slipped in on its own accord, but _hey_, she needed to know. She could see it in his eyes that even though it was only the beginning of the day, he was already tempted to drown his self-reproach into the numbing abyss of intoxication.

He sniffed at her scornfully, dropping the coffee spoon. "Fine. But only till this is over."

She was never one to stay idle chatter, so she pushed herself off the chair, tapped her paying card on the electronic register – he gave her a funny look, since after all, she hadn't eaten anything that he had bought – and left the table. However, just she was halfway across the bar, she pulled herself back to the brunette man, shrouded alone in the corner. This move earned a look of surprise from him, then suspicion.

Her message simple, clear and concise, as she often was. "I understand."

The look that he gave her answered it silently_, 'No, you don't. You're inexperienced, inept and incapable of understanding what I suffer through.'_

"I haven't played this game very long, and I'm not going to pretend that I have any idea how taxing mentoring can be, but-" her expression must have softened, because he was starting to actually consider her seriously, "-I know what it's like to have your dreams killed." There's a lump at back of her throat, forcing her to swallow before she could speak again. "She meant a lot to you, didn't she?"

There was a pause before Flynn answered, his gaze falling to the reptile, "She's the only one that ever liked me for," his eyes went distant for a second, as if he was peering at some long-forgotten face he used to know, "well, me."

"I told you that Tadashi and I were pretty much just friends – that's true. But-" Gogo hesitated now, because she had never voiced this in life to anyone before, not even to herself. It was just a scramble of incongruent thought, supposedly meaningless flights of fancy, and exposing it would merely unravel memories she'd rather not deal with presently. Yet here she was, telling it to a man she hardly knew, because she wanted him to understand that she did indeed understand. "But I had ever considered that given time-" time they couldn't have, time snatched away unfairly from their youth, "- it could have been … more."

The wrench on her soul was too much for her too take, so she whipped away from him, not waiting for any response while she hastily made her way from the bar, blinking back the tears with her ferocious self-control.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

One kiss equaled one sponsor gift.

Elsa had begun to notice the pattern sometime yesterday after Hans had planted one on her forehead. It had been a sweet move - to soothe her while he helped her remove the bandages around her swollen ankle. Easy as it was to make new ice bandages, he did point out that constant damp clinging to the skin might lead to rashes. That kiss had earned them fresh bandages from their sponsors– not the common cotton kind, but from a silky, stretchy polyester type was also lined special Capitol medicine to accelerate her healing. By the yesterday evening, Elsa was walking without any support.

The type of kiss also affected the nature of the gift. When she had placed a tentative peck on his cheek, they gained some painkillers, of which she only consented to consuming half, while she saved the rest emergency. When they shared a lingering, languid one on the lips initiated by him, they earned an entire basket full of food; turkey stew, pasta 'n' cream salad, cranberry pie, apples, sugared buns and assorted sandwiches. Elsa had recalled hearing Mike Wazowski describe the set before as the most expensive gift that could be offered in the Games. She wondered exactly how many rich and stupid people in the Capitol had been completely been bought over by the pretense.

If it was still pretense.

She had to admit that with each display of affection, her confusion increased twice fold. There was still no feeling of intense happiness, or peace, or even excited fluttering that Anna claimed had she had felt before. She had to admit that his sweetness and sincerity sent a warmth in her heart, and she was aware that his emerald eyes were oceans of deep feeling – feeling that she was uncertain and afraid of reciprocating.

Was it love?

Well, how on Earth was she supposed to know? Though a vivacious reader, her choice of books largely remained on geography, or politics, or other topics that were objective and factual in nature. She didn't dig into romance novels like Anna did, and the little that she knew of amorous love was whatever was displayed by her parents. Even then, her memories of her parents were already fuzzing out with time, and even if she could recall it better, it would have been useless to compare an established, mature relationship with the awkwardly intimate exchanges between a pair of adolescence. And worse, he apparently had history of liking her long ago, and perhaps present circumstances had rekindled the flame for him. But herself, well, after years of trying so desperately not to feel, placing down her feelings was impossible.

Pretend was a game that Elsa she was fairly good at, so she kept pretending; pretending that each smile he sent her way made her insides jelly; pretending that when she smiled in return, she could actually meet the depth and feeling, instead of mere bewilderment; pretending that she didn't wish that his eyes weren't dreamy emerald but mischievous brown.

Unconsciously, her brain would flip into comparison mode. For someone whom she had expected to be as crazy and hyperactive as Anna, Hans had proven himself over and over to be a terribly sensible, solid person – almost like herself, actually. When they chose where or when to go, he would list their options out with the appropriate pros and cons before leaving her to decide, though gently pressing his own opinion. He was a lively but considerate companion, ensure to keep her entertained long treks into the woods but gave her silence when she seemed tired. He was such a gentleman that the guilt about her apathy towards him prodded her endlessly.

Now Jack? Jack was not the most gallant, or the most wise. At times, he was impulsive and sometimes quite nonchalant about their situation, to the point that he made some remarkably irrational choices – him choosing her as an ally had only been one of many. He was boyish, fun-loving, cracking jokes and cackling unnecessarily at stuff she did. For a good part of their journey in the Winter Quarter, he had been upfront cold towards her, though his reasons for doing so had been later revealed.

The thing was that with Jack, she knew what she was dealing with. The boy was largely open with his thoughts and feelings. With Hans, well, everything was a mystery.

Breakfast was served over a fire – not to cook it as much as to heat it up. Their meal consisted leftovers of the sponsor basket they had received the day before. She had longed to gobble down all food that they had received, but Han had wisely advised against it, stating that after a week of eating crude foods, they'd get sick if they stuff their guts. Elsa had reluctantly conceded after his explanation, feeling slightly embarrassed for not thinking of that herself. But perhaps with being Hans being so calm and rational, she had automatically had become the rash, impulsive character. That was a disturbing notion, considering she was the one with uncontrollable powers.

Speaking of powers, she hadn't actually told Hans what had happened to Jack. The day before, he had remarked offhandedly, with some bemusement, that it was rather astonishing that the District 10 boy had lived, especially when he had been as pale as a corpse at Cornucopia. Did she by chance know how that happened, since she had, after all, been with him when he had supposedly 'died'? Her own response had been less than forthcoming, and she could sense that Hans could detect her uneasiness, but ever the gentleman, he had not inquired further, though he had implied that he had hoped for her to share soon.

As she took a slice of pie on the steel plate that the Capitol had so graciously provided, the redhead boy recounted to her how he had been woken by two cannon shots in the dead of the night. Even though she had her gloves on, the plate of pie gained an unexpected layer of frost.

"Oh, again?" she heard him say with a light-hearted chuckle, before taking the plate from her hands and setting it before the fire to thaw. "Give it a second or two, and it'll get fixed."

She knew that he did that to make light of her ice problem, which only served to accentuate her guilt. He was so awfully patient and kind about things, which she was increasingly convinced was due to his infatuation with her – something she couldn't, or perhaps, wouldn't reciprocate.

As he carried on chatting as if nothing has happened, she stared down at her hands, mostly to avoid his gaze rather than anything else, and that was when she noticed the tuft of snow caught between her palms.

She blinked, before scrutinizing it again. The tuft of snow didn't disappear under her eyes, but instead grew in size, and veins of ice began to lined the fabric of the gloves, engulfing it.

"No," she gasped in horror.

"Elsa?" Hans had ceased his own ramblings and eating to ask her that. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Before she could ball her fists to hide the evidence, he had already set down his plate, drawing himself to her side and glancing at the palms. She fixed her eyes on the gloves, staring helplessly as the ice crept all over her palms. She shook her head, tightening her grip and holding her fists over her mouth.

"Elsa," his tone was kindly, but insistent. He crouched down beside, his forest green eyes gazing up at her. "You have to tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong," she protested more forcefully this time. The frost crawling up the trimming of the gloves, however, begged to differ.

"Elsa."

_Don't let them in._

She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping the hidden pain would distract her body from the flurry outpouring sprinkling down onto them.

"Elsa, please."

_Don't let them see._

Just a few days ago, she had embraced her powers, she had chosen to 'let it go' and here she was, hiding again. Shrouded and shackled in her fears. But if she didn't, who knows what else she might unleash? She had already hurt Jack. Heaven knows what Anna might do if she hurt Hans.

"Don't shut me out here. I can't help you like this."

_Be the good girl, you've also had to be._

Except that that option was no longer available. She couldn't be a 'good girl' when she had already used her powers to strike the killing blow. Even if Jack wasn't dead yet, what were the chances that he wouldn't be soon? Anna hadn't perished immediately after she had been struck in the head, so who was to say how long he had before he finally succumbed to whatever fate her abilities granted him?

She had to tell him, not because Hans could actually do anything about it, but because she owed it to him. He had done his part writing the romance story, playing the infatuated schoolboy, sacrificing himself as the noble hero. So he had a right to know that all his efforts to save them both had come to nothing because of her.

"I killed him." She pursed her lips together.

The three words, for all her efforts however, were insufficient to shed clarity on the situation. "What? Who?"

"Jack." A light shower of flakes started falling over them, still gentle and pleasant, but the fact that they were there betrayed the present worries in her heart. "I shot him," she took a deep breath, opening her palms only to close them up again. "I shot him with ice. In the heart."

For a brief moment, he actually looked lost, quite apart from the cool-headed, rational young man she had come to know over time. After a pause, she noticed how he collected himself, before commenting, comforting and kind as ever, "It can't be. He would have died by now that way. We saw the recaps – they were completely clean of him. And the two shots this morning? Well, it could be anyone."

So Elsa told him the truth. She told him about how she had frozen Anna's head when they were children, how Anna had stayed unconscious for days with her health slowly deteriorating, how the recovery had been a one in a million chance, and that was when it only froze her head. Even if Jack was still alive in the Arena, he could be slowly rotting away at who knows where.

The end of the confession was the entrance of another lull, but this one was terse, and the snow around began to fall more thickly than ever when Elsa saw the down-turned corners of Hans' lips. She watched anxiously as he mused over the newly-revealed facts, waiting for him to drop her an optimistic note, or an assurance that everything would work out somehow, and the chances that Jack wouldn't be killed by something else first was far too small. If she had any choice though, Jack wouldn't have to die, at all.

Finally, the silence broke, but it wasn't the comforting words she had expected, not even the grim reprimand that she feared. It was a chuckle.

"Hans?" she asked, genuinely concerned and slightly perturbed.

It was then that she realized that the soft laughter was bitter and humorless. There was a wry grin twisted on his face, and somehow even his handsome contours couldn't make it seem any less grotesque. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded hollow and mocking, empty of its usual warmth, "We never stood a chance, did we?"

She blinked, startled by his manner and not comprehending what he meant.

Observing her puzzlement, he elaborating in sardonic tones, "You and I, _together_ – we never stood a chance. The Gamemakers were fooling us all along." Somehow when he said 'us', Elsa felt that he had actually meant 'you.'

"I don't understand," she told him, a foreign chill running down her back. It wasn't from the cold, that she was certain of.

"Don't you see?" Hans made a rancorous snort, shaking the side of his head at the same time. "The minute they found out about your powers, they weren't going to let you out. They would _neve_r let a mutant win." She was about to protest, but he cut her off swiftly, "The rule? It's just a joke. They knew that you would break it, and if you didn't, they would drive you to a point that you would." He let out another bone-rattling cackle, so acrid and harsh that it felt almost like a slap across the face. "Dammit, Elsa! Why do you think they even set up a feast?"

She floundered about, racking her brains some reasonable response, but the more she thought, the more he made sense to her. The words she had heard from the District 1 boy came back, haunting and taunting, _"They'd never let a monster win."_

Each time they added a rule, it gave her hope, but now she understood – it was false hope. Every move that the Gamemakers played for her had actually been against her. Letting her live this long had merely been for entertainment's sake, because how often would you get an ice mutant to prod and poke in the Arena? She was just a pawn – a very interesting, yet dangerous and certainly expendable, pawn.

"What can we do?" Her throat was dry.

With the bitterness faded away, the look that he gave her was sad, almost pitying. She half-expected an embrace, or even an assuring kiss, but perhaps he no longer felt any reason to keep up the charade. The defeat in his tone told her everything that she already knew. "Nothing."

"But-"

"It's over, Elsa. It's over for us." He exhaled heavily, shaking his head yet again. His voice fell several decibels, almost like he was talking to himself, "And for Twelve, too."

That made her glance up sharply.

"Your powers, Elsa." He drew nearer to her, but not too near. After what she had told him about Jack, it seemed that he became more cautious. "Your very existence slights the Capitol, and they're not going to take this lightly. They can't punish you any further– you're already in the Games." He set his jaw, a scowl appearing on his face. "So they'll take it out on our district."

"No." The strange breathlessness that had attacked her when she had heard Anna's name on reaping day attacked her again, and she stumbled back, her world swirling and spinning into whiteness. "No, no, no…"

Faces of the people of her hometown flashed through her mind, some of neighbors, others school mates, friends of her parents. Kai and Greta appeared once or twice, along with Kristoff and his reindeer, Pabbie and most of all Anna.

Horrifying visions began to manifest inside her head; peacekeepers arresting her sister and putting her under a firing squad, or sending her to the Capitol before slicing off her tongue and forcing her to become an Avox. The worst was one of Anna being strapped down to a surgery bed, wriggling and screaming in a gag while faceless figures stuck knives and needles into her, conducting experiment after experiment, searching for cryokinetic powers that weren't there.

Elsa didn't know when it started, but ice seeped through her boots, fanning out below as crystalline patterns. The lake that they had been seated near to froze over almost instantly. The campfire was snuffed out with a sharp hiss, and icicles emerged from the sides of the trees, spiraling up the tall wooden structures before enveloping them with a coarse veneer of snow. A breeze swished through the branches above them, knocking them against each other, and the shower of leaves was mixed with that of the snow.

She thought of her parents – loving, patient, staunch in their belief that one day she would not only learn to control her abilities, but that she could even use them for good. Elsa felt a tear trickle down her cheek, but it didn't roll down the way tears often did, because half way down it froze into an ice crystal, and the wind brushed it away.

She faintly registered Hans saying something, probably to do with the plummeting temperatures, but she wasn't listening. Her knees buckled, and a hand rose to her mouth to cover the soundless cry from her throat. Her gloves had dissolved into icy fragments, flaking off her skin, till her hands were bare in the open again. She must have tripped over something, because she found herself on her knees, her sobs of anguish drowned out by the howling wind.

She was such a fool – even Hans could see it! She could never break free from her power or the Games. There was no escape from the storm – both on the inside and the outside. The curse was out of her control. And now? She had doomed everyone she had ever loved.

She didn't hear it when the sword left its sheath, nor when the muffled steps came her way. But she did hear the clink of ice against metal, and over the torrents she heard a yelp of pain. She lifted her head from her hands, and the storm inexplicably stilled.

She saw Hans clenching his teeth, and noticed his left hand grasped his right. His sword lay on the frozen surface of the ice lake a few feet from him – why it was there, she couldn't fathom. She was about to inquire into it, but she realized his attentions were no longer on her, but on a wiry figure standing in the centre of the frozen lake. The person donned a dark blue coat, along with pants that had its edges ripped, and no shoes. The exposed parts of his skin revealed many wounds, some superficial and others appearing to be almost fatal, and all almost completely covered by the bluish veneer of ice. White locks danced over his azure eyes, and he shuddered as he dragged himself a step forward. His staff, which had been pointed towards them earlier, was now used as walking stick as he hobbled painfully towards them. She wouldn't have recognized him at all, if it wasn't for the familiar jingling, albeit weak, laughter.

"Jack?"

* * *

Love. A mysterious, powerful force that so many claim to know, some claim to have, and few actually understand. Love, the greatest source of his hate.

At first glance, you'd probably not guess it, but in his younger days, Hans had been terribly fond of fairytales. It was not something he had taken pride in, or something he wanted to his brothers to find out. But he had adored the marvelous worlds woven in the books, speaking of far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, even princes in disguise!

From the tales, he had learned the many abstract concepts that even many adults barely understood themselves, and practiced even less. Valour was something that he desired very much himself. Wisdom was something he admired in others, and struggled to obtain. A man's loyalty was the measure of his worth, and his selflessness was the measure of his heart. Lofty ideals they had been, perhaps, but they had been his ideals, nonetheless. There was very little that he had wanted as much in his life as to be as great as the warriors in the tales.

That was, of course, before he had fallen in love.

He hadn't been lying when he had said that he had huge crush on Elsa. The story about the crocus and the gloves – all of it was true. On hindsight though, it was foolish to dream that he had ever stood a chance, but he had to admit that his younger self had excellent judgment.

Most of the young men sought for Elsa's attentions and, hopefully, her affections had been primarily preoccupied with her looks. Considering himself a person of a certain level of sophistication, he had scoffed at them. They obviously had no appreciation for the finest details that made her such an excellent woman. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also intelligent. He remembered how her name would always be at the top of the class lists, and how teachers would praise her while she fidgeted awkwardly in her desk, wringing her gloved fingers together.

Even from a young age, Elsa always carried herself with grace and poise, almost emanating an aura of regality. After the passing of her parents,the Arendelle girls had experienced a huge class shift - literally riches to rags - but Elsa plowed on, still walking proudly through the streets, refusing to be torn down by circumstance and misfortune. Perhaps it was the fact that she was the first born daughter of the District's favorite ex-mayor, or perhaps it was her quiet yet powerful manner, but her actions had earned her much respect in the District, especially amongst the poorer folk. The people of the Hob had called her 'Queen' long before the Capitol ever did.

What Hans admired of her he also envied. He was the object of his parents' annoyance and his brother's mockery, and to the rest of the district, he might as well been invisible. He had tried to be like the heroes he had read about, working patiently and tireless, being generous with the little that he had, but it had been exhausting. Sometimes he would watch her gliding gracefully down through the schoolroom with her head held high and wonder if he could ever meet those standards himself. At the back of his head, he felt a keen sense of injustice - why was it that it came so easy for some people?

Sometime after he had witnessed her destroy the tokens of his affections and had his heart broken, it had become easier to envy than to admire. Occasionally, Hans would indulge in a fantasy that he was be a prince who faced off some ferocious dragon and won the fair lady's hand, but eventually he 'grew up', as his brother's remarked in snickering tones. He had realized that he wasn't a prince, and she was no 'fair lady', and no one was getting anywhere with her anyway. She chose to keep her interactions with people at minimum, after all. In other words, there were no happily-ever-afters.

Bitterness had taken root his heart, and with each day that passed, it consumed a little more of him each time. He had become incredible driven to study, flipping endlessly through the textbooks in the faintest hope in beating her placing in school, and if nothing else, out-do his brothers' own accomplishments. His acts of 'kindness' had increased, and the rising number of people grateful and cordial towards him became almost annoying. Yet no matter his fervor in his efforts, somehow Elsa had managed to get those grades, and more reverence than she would ever need, without even blinking of an eye.

Anna had been perhaps his most successful stint at revenge. It had been a stroke of luck that she had been desperate enough for love and attention to take him as her boyfriend, even if she had only known him for a week prior. He had taken great pleasure in Elsa's fury when she had found out, and Anna lashing back had been just the icing on the cake. Now that he thought more about it, he could vaguely remember that Elsa had been clinging quite tightly to her own arms on that day, giving her sister short, but sharp reprimands, then hurrying away before the argument was done.

Anna was not a bad kid. Not overtly bright, and terribly naïve, but she was bubbly and sweet, nothing like her steely-mannered sister. Had Elsa never existed and had his dream-chasing self never gotten so jaded, he might have actually cared for her. But the fact remained that she had merely used him to fill the void in her love-life, so it seemed fair that he had used her to make her sister seethe.

He had been content – well, as much as he could possibly be – and his petty schemes to infuriate the majestic, brilliant young girl who had never noticed him before had kept him busy.

But then, the Hunger Games.

He didn't have the greatest life in the world, but that didn't mean that he wanted to die. Between Elsa and himself, he had been pretty sure that she had a better chance of building rapport with the Capitol audience – he was fully aware of the magnetic quality she possessed. Instead of striking up a challenge, he had tried to keep on good terms with her, since that had been the strategic thing, and though she was hostile at first, she began to open up little by little – well, as much as a person like Elsa could possibly open up.

After having a solid conversation or two with her, his own perception of her had been drastically altered. Yes, she truly was as elegantly dignified and wonderful as he had assessed, but she was also incredibly insecure about something, which he now understood to be her powers. Somehow the confident façade that she wore in public and the nervous wreck that she really had been pretty jarring for him,especially since he always had held in her in high-esteem, and in all honesty, he had been a tad disappointed that she wasn't as perfect as he had always made her out to be. But another boyish part of him had gotten excited instead, excited that perhaps she wasn't so unreachable after all. Despite the looming doom that awaited them both in the Arena, that part of him had wanted to spend time with her, connect with her, and maybe pretend just one last time that there might actually be a happily ever after.

The romance angle for his interview had been actually inspired by his childish love for tales. The Capitol folk were not a particularly mature bunch, and the reasons why they indulged so heavily in the Games – beside Capitol regulations – was to escape their own dull lives. A good story could be used to catch the attentions of a petulant child, and romance was one of the easiest genres to pull off. It was also a fairly unique one, since few had attempted it before. Pabbie had not completely approved, but he had seen the wisdom in it. Elsa, being fiercely devoted to her sister, had certainly despised it, but he had no regrets. Besides, it had helped her too, so she should have been grateful.

Discovering Elsa's powers during the Games had led him to a strange sort of emotional roadblock. With the source of her reclusiveness finally in the light, carefully festered resentment, new-found empathy and long-abandoned chivalry had come knocking at the door of his hardened heart. Years of disappointment had trained him to rein in his feelings, but the longer he had played the lover boy of District 12, the more he had bought his own act. He even caught himself worrying about her a few times. He tried to justify it as him hoping that she would win for District 12's sake if he should die, but it hadn't been very convincing.

While gradually freezing and bleeding to death on mountain's peak in the Winter Quarter, he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that a part of him still had feelings for her – a very inconvenient burden, if he could say so himself. He had valiantly fought against it, choosing to concentrate on his own survival rather than take further steps to play up the romance angle, even ensuring that he grabbed the bag at the Cornucopia before she did. After all, she had ice powers, and he had only his bare hands.

But the announcement of the new rule had changed everything. Knowing the Gamemakers, he had naturally been suspicious, but he couldn't hold back the surge of glee in his dreamer heart. It had been the 'fairy godmother' moment, the dawn right after the darkness, and he allowed himself to dream. His cynical side was quick to point out that Elsa had seemed a tad too upset about her ex-ally's supposed death, but his optimism had stubbornly refused to see it, believing that charm and kindness would win her over. When she had kissed him, it had been like breathing life into his deadened hopes, and for that moment he had been happy.

And then the moment passed, as good moments often did in his life.

She didn't care about him. The only reason she stuck with the charade was because she was somehow convinced that saving him would be a favor her sister. He laughed at the notion – he knew that Anna would refuse to have anything if she could by now, which showed how little Elsa truly understood her own sister. In some ways, the younger Arendelle sister was indeed like him. Both knew what it was like to be the 'spare' and had their more than equal share of the second-hands – _thirteen_-hands, in his case. And he was tired of taking spares, or being one, especially to some pretty-faced douchebag of District 10 playboy.

Anyway, it didn't matter now. Elsa ruined it – she really made such a huge mess, and there was no way that he could amend the situation. Watching the snow pelting down from above, the white mist forming from nothing, he found that he could see the Capitol's point of view. Letting a mutant become a victor would be pretty close to giving her immunity from further persecution. Especially for someone as popular as Elsa, it would be nearly impossible to have her arrested or contained without obviously making her vanish from the camera lens. Given how weak her hold was on her own powers, they wouldn't be able to clamp her down if her emotions worked against them, even if they held Anna ransom.

So they couldn't let her live. He had told her the truth. A person like her was a living manifestation of everything the Capitol feared – powerful, intelligent, enigmatic, and stately with an almost supernatural edge, thanks to her mutant powers. In many ways, she was the embodiment of rebellion.

Which was why District 12 was doomed. Even if the Capitol killed her, people would remember. They would turn her to a martyr even if they had thought her a monster before, because even the Capitol feared her, and a feat like that could not be missed. She would become a symbol of their hopes and aspirations, and eventually, the rallying point of their hate. The Capitol would then have to send the message of fear in some other way, and if it meant elimination of the mutant's place of origin, so be it.

But what if it was a District 12 citizen who killed her?

Hans had once heard an old story about a great army general. The general was extremely loyal to his king, and earned much favor in court and amongst the people. One day, his country went to war a neighboring country of which the general's wife was a princess to. The King and his advisor then began to doubt the general's loyalties due to the conflict of interests. Fearing betrayal, they purposely kept him out of all plans. Grieved that so little trust was given to him despite his years of service, the general killed his wife, then presented her head to the king as an act of dedication.

An act of _dedication_ \- an act of _fear_. That was the only alternative that would assuage the Capitol's fury.

She wasn't looking at him right now, and she knew even less what was going on his mind. Her back was faced towards him – the perfect window of opportunity.

Still, his emotions got in the way – childish fancies that wouldn't budge. Hans berated himself, trying to chase those annoying fleeting sensations away. Feelings never got him anywhere – hard, rational thought did. Of course, his emotions never did listen to reason, and he found himself hesitating while he clasped and unclasped the sword hilt.

His internal battle was locked in a standstill; compassion and love adamantly refusing to commit such a crime, and reason screaming for a greater good. Eventually, reason got smart and took a new route. He began to focus on every single incident where she had shut him out, accidentally and deliberately. He focused on how he had done so much to aid her, and she had paid so little back. He focused on the fact that the kiss meant so much more to him than it did to her, and that she liked brunettes better.

There's some awfully cliché saying about how love and hate are two sides of the same coin, but that's just plain wrong. Such a metaphor implies that love and hate are incompatible, which wasn't true in Hans' case. Despite his attempts desperately not to the feel, he still loved her. And that was precisely why he hated her.

He hated how she made him feel, how she made him weak, and how she consumed so much of his life that he couldn't imagine living without her. He had to purge himself of the miasma, even if it meant destroying the source.

Rationality and emotion finally reached a consensus, so he unsheathed the blade, stepping cautiously towards her. Though the wind filled his ears with its baleful wail, he could hear her sobbing, but he felt no sympathy or compassion. He had hurt for too long, and what he was going to do her would only last for a few seconds.

He raised the sword up high, systematically assessing how hard the blow would need to be in order to minimize suffering, and wondering if he should aim for the head or the heart. In the end, he decided that she probably wasn't worth the consideration.

As the blade was on its way down towards the kneeling blonde girl, Hans heard a sharp crackle and before he could turn his head, he felt an acute burning sear attack him arm. He cried out as the blade fell out of his hand, flung on the frozen surface of the ice lake. Elsa glanced up, which meant that he had lost his chance, but he was not overtly bothered by that for now. He was far too engrossed in the clenching his frostbitten hand and transferring all his hate to the boy with snowy-white hair.

* * *

For most part, his trek through the Autumn Quarter had been a dull one. Except for the splintering aches that had invaded each time he had willed his rigid body to move, cold and silence had his only companions. It felt like centuries later when he heard voices.

"- existence slights the Capitol-" _fuzz_ "-this lightly. They can't punish you-"_ fuzz_ "-they'll take out on our district."

"No." There was a gasp. "No, no, no…"

Jack slowed his steps, shaking his head in attempt to clear the fog. He glanced around, his neck making a sickening creak sound as he did, trying to find the source of the mysterious sounds. He decided to forgo his meaningless trek through the snow – or through snow-coated leaves; or snowy leaves; or leaves and snow; whatever – in favour of tracing it down.

He found what he was looking eventually when he stopped by the shore of frozen lake. Though he was brain-fried – or possibly brain-frozen – he had comprehended what his eyes had told him, and it did not make any sense.

It was Elsa, and she had collapsed to the ground, crying. Snow was flying all over the place as if Mother Nature herself had spun herself into a furious white entity and seeking retribution against humanity. Behind Elsa's sobbing form, he spotted the District 12 boy, and he had a – a – a –

Hang on a sec. Was that a sword?

If he wasn't so drained, Jack would have scrunched his face at the scene, wave his hands and asked for the screenwriter to redo the script, because this was ridiculous! Brain-fried – um, brain-frozen or not, he was pretty sure that people in the same district were allowed to go home together, if they both managed to stay alive till the end. He also vaguely recalled that the redheaded guy was supposed to be in love with Elsa, so why was he trying to kill her?

Then something in him snapped. That redheaded side-burned backstabber was trying to kill Elsa!

The cogs in his near-petrified form starting whirring to life. He found himself dashing forward at a speed that sent new jabs of pain all around, but he didn't care about that. The words said by someone, or something, kept ringing in his muddled head - _protect the girl_.

If stepping on to the ice lake without shoes was a dumb thing to do, running on it was even dumber. Yet somehow he pulled it off. What should have felt slippery and biting felt soft beneath his feet, and when he gazed downwards, he realized it was because there was frost forming beneath his feet. He wasn't sure where that came from, and he didn't have enough brain space to process it at the moment, so he channeled his energy to his task instead.

By the time he was halfway across the lake, he knew that he wouldn't make it in time before the sword when down. He would have hollered, or waved his hands in the air, or even danced the chicken dance, if just to get the redheaded dude to look his way and not kill Elsa, but he couldn't do any of that. His body wasn't really cooperating at the moment, and he would kick himself into action, except he couldn't remember how to kick.

Since thinking obviously wasn't going to solve anything, he decided to just do the only thing his body would let him do.

He extended the crooked end of the staff towards the redheaded boy, aiming for the hand. He recalled having a tingling sensation vibrating through his arm, before a bluish blast emerged from the crook, zooming straight towards the target.

The redheaded boy cried out in pain, glaring at him when his sword clattered on to the icy surface of the lake as he did. The girl, whose name he couldn't remember at the moment, stopped crying, opting to gaze up from her palms. The storm seemed to still, for which he was immensely grateful for, because heck, it's freezing!

The joy of saving …Whatsername and the dying of the chill sent a weird sort of bubbling happiness in his half-frozen system, and he chuckled. It took out more of him than he thought though, and he had to set his staff down again just to hold himself upright.

"Jack?"

His laughter was cut short. Blinking, he stared at the blonde girl crumpled on the ground, because that sounded kind of familiar to him.

Oh, yeah. It was his name. How silly of him.

"Elsa, stay back," the redheaded boy seemed to awaken from his own reverie, taking a step forward towards the lake, muscles tense and his eyes not leaving Jack.

The girl cast a bewildered look at her district mate, squinting concernedly at ice creeping along his arm. "What happened? Hans, are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine," the redheaded boy's tone was sharp. "If you must know, your boyfriend just struck me ice." He continued to glower at Jack. "It's seemed that you may have just pulled a Frankenstein."

"He's not my-" she broke off, her eyes widening. "Wait, he struck you?"

Her gaze fell back on Jack, her mouth falling open at the sight of his frost-covered staff and the patches of ice all over his body. He gave her a tight smile, before narrowing his eyes at the redheaded boy.

"Keep away from her," the voice that came from his throat was hoarse, sounding completely foreign to his own ears. He coughed, before repeating it more firmly, and directed his staff to the District 12, "Keep away from Elsa."

The boy, Hans, had bent himself down, and he was slowly reaching for his sword. "Why, so that you can hurt her?"

The confusion on Elsa's face seemed to increase, and the flakes around him suddenly began to move again. "Wait. What's going on?"

"Ten tried to shoot you with his new-found powers," Sideburns said, snatching up his blade before getting to his feet. "I managed to deflect it."

Jack was aghast. This couldn't be happening. "Excuse me?"

"Elsa, stay back," Hans warned again, wincing when he shifted the sword in his swollen right hand, eventually opting to hold it with his left instead.

"Me? Shoot her? I was the one who-"

"Don't come any nearer," the other boy interrupted, climbing onto the ice, approaching him. Addressing the blonde, he said, "I'll take care of this."

In the peripheral of his vision, Jack detected some hesitation in Elsa's manner while she rose unsteadily to her feet. "What are you doing?"

He noted that Hans' countenance darkened. "Maybe if we kill him the normal way, the Gamemakers will give us another chance."

Jack began to feel a fresh breeze sweeping into his hair, sending an unwanted shudder through his body, causing him to double up in agony. Not a very good position to be in, considering there was some guy holding a sword threatening to kill him. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to glare at Hans. Focus on protective instinct. Focus on Elsa.

"What? No!" He heard Elsa cry out. "You said so yourself – they're never letting me out."

"They can only do that if you break a rule," Hans retorted. "I kill him, then it's a reset."

The blizzard increased in ferocity, forcing Jack to clutch his chest, though that did little to ease the burning in his chest. But this time, he managed to slog a couple of steps forward. Coughing, the words he snarled out were barely audible, "Get away from her, creep."

To Elsa, he said in a raspy voice, "I'd never do anything to hurt you. You know that."

The sapphire eyes flicked from the redhead to the white-haired, the back to the redhead. Then suddenly Jack remembered. The blonde girl, Elsa - she had been his ally at one time. They had made an agreement to work together, and he had promised to protect her. And then she had hurt him – she had frozen his heart. The ice, the cold, the horrible dizziness…

_Heh, _he was_ dying._ Well, now things were starting to make sense. Wait, no. It didn't make sense. She struck him. She pretty much killed him. Yet he was here, attempting to defend her from her two-faced supposedly-but-not-really-boyfriend.

He shrugged. Well, rationality was never his strongest suit.

When Elsa turned to face him one last time, Jack knew by how she creased her forehead that she had chosen whom to believe, and that gave him new resolve when he barked out his new threat, "Move, Sideburns, and maybe I won't kill you. Painfully."

The District 12 boy made a jeering noise. "You have a stick. I have a sword."

"But I have ice-powers!" Jack countered with a grin. Then he frowned, squinting at his staff. "Sort of."

"And ... you're also turning into ice."

"No, I -" glancing down at his whitish-blue hands, "-well, I suppose you do have a point."

The redheaded boy struck first, so suddenly that Jack had only a millisecond to raise his staff to prevent the blade from slicing open his brains. There was a sharp '_twack!' _when both weapons met, the backlash of the blow almost sending both boys skidding across the lake. This unfortunate outcome was fortunately avoid when Jack slapped a foot on the ice, creating ribbings on the icy surface to regain friction.

When Hans pulled back his blade, the slashing began anew. Unlike the time that he fought Gothel, reacting to the redhead's moves were a tad easier since he wasn't as quick or strong without the use of his dominant. However, Jack had to admit his own physical condition in this fight was far worst. With Gothel, he felt like throwing up and collapsing. Against Hans, he felt more like a wooden block - he didn't even know if he could throw up. C'mon, he couldn't feel his lower abdomen.

Somewhere in the background, Elsa shouted at them, begging them to stop. At the sound of her voice, Jack hesitated, almost lowering his staff at one point, but the redheaded boy only made a growl, beginning to thrust and stab with new vigour, tossing both of them back into a frenzied combat.

The winds picked up speed, and Jack's pain quadrupled, making his knees buckle just as he managed to fend off an excellent thrust from his opponent. Against wisdom, one hand left the staff to fist at his chest, trying to beat the pain out of himself. This particular stab of cold travelled up his neck, to his head, causing him to shudder so violently that he could almost hear his bones rattling.

"Hans, stop!"

Elsa's cry went completely ignored by the District 12 boy, who now wore a devilish grin at the sight of Jack's added weakness. He was practically smirking as he drew the sword back, ready to take the opening.

"No!"

It was quite subtle move, and Jack wouldn't have noticed it if the redhead hadn't jerked himself back at that moment. Hans paused his attack to wipe off the blood that had mysteriously appeared on his chin, before turning to glower at the blonde girl behind him. Elsa was trembling, but she refused to redraw the glowing hand. "Stop."

"Who's side are you on?" Hans demanded.

"You're not killing Jack. I won't allow it." Her quivering voice steeled. "And I'll enforce that if I have to."

There was a disbelieving scoff from her district mate, so harsh that it made the constriction in Jack's chest somehow get worse. His feet gave way, causing him to fall involuntarily fall to his knees.

"So that's it then? You choose some stranger over someone from your district." Jack hazily registered the redheaded boy spitting out. "Someone who actually has prior connections to you." From the corner of his eye, he saw through blurry vision that Hans had pulled something else out of his coat. It seemed to be a short lock of hair, half-brown, half-white. It couldn't be Hans', since his hair wasn't long or long enough, but by the stricken look in Elsa's eye, it was apparent that she recognized the owner.

Hans cast the lock of hair down on the snow with an air of revulsion, forgetting his snow-haired enemy, choosing to step towards the ice mutant instead. "If you strike me down, Elsa, she'll never forgive you. The people of 12 will never forgive you." He pointed at himself. "You want to strike me, kill me the way you're killing him? Go ahead. Show everyone what you really are. Show them just how much of a _monster_ you really are."

It may have been his imagination, but the raining snow suddenly thinned. Elsa had drawn her hands back, suddenly frightened. She didn't know, Jack realized. She didn't know that Hans tried to kill her when she had her back turned, because if she did, she would know that he was bluffing. The people of District 12 wouldn't hold it against her because Hans had made the first move.

He had to tell her the truth. She would listen to him. But when Jack parted his lips, he only let out a soft moan when he felt the ice piercing into his bones. His tongue was heavy, and his teeth were chattering non-stop. Elsa had spun away from them both, muttering fiercely to herself, while Hans, ever the opportunist it appeared, was sliding himself quietly behind her, his eyes seeming to darken before he raised his sword again.

The words in Jack's head sounded louder than ever, like a sort of siren blaring in his head. _Protect! Protect! Protect!_

_Freezing-slash-dying body could go hang. He had work to do. _

The amount of strength he suddenly possessed was inhuman, which was fine by him, because he needed it to spring back to his feet and dart forward to the District 12 boy. Before Hans could ever take aim, Jack had swung his staff around the other's neck, pulling him backward abruptly. Hans swore loudly as he wriggled against the taller boy's hold, trying to readjust the sword to stab his opponent. By Elsa's visage, Jack could tell she was torn. She wanted to intervene, certainly, but there was no way she could hit one without injuring the other. The blizzard, however, seemed to pick up from where it had left off, sending unwanted fresh splays of ice into Jack's flesh.

He was so distracted that he barely noticed when Hans drove his elbow into his gut, forcing him to release him. The redhead wasted no time in snatching away Jack's staff before tossing it aside.

"No!"

Jack felt a firm grab on his shoulder, right over where his wolf-bite wound should have been. He felt himself being yanked forward, towards the hateful eyes of the District 12 boy. He heard a scream from somewhere, but what the scream said was lost on him as he gained a new revelation.

Oh, did he mention that he felt something smooth and warm slide through his chest? He peered hazily down and he realized why.

"This time die, won't you?" he heard Hans hiss, as the blade was abruptly retracted from his body. Jack sunk to ground, flopping down awkwardly like a piece of wet cardboard. Then he realized that he couldn't hear his own heart beating anymore.

* * *

_Horror. Revulsion. Guilt._

She wasn't prepared for this. She had been hiding her feelings for years. So when the dam of emotions broke, she didn't know how to handle it.

The flakes spun crazily around her, and ice kept pouring out. Any traces of autumn disappeared, replaced by piles of snow and emerging ice structures. The ice formations took obscure shapes; each curved and wild, crudely decorated with millions of spikes. Somehow, a good deal of them seemed to be directed toward the redheaded boy. She still couldn't believe that the terrifying young man holding the sword was the same boy who had comforted her in the dark after she had earned a training score of two.

_Disillusionment. Fear. Anger._

Hans turned to her now, the crimson-stained blade in his hand. It wasn't actually that bloody – just a little red along its tip, but it made her sick knowing it was from a boy who didn't deserve it. Her eyes fell on the redheaded boy, and fear became contempt.

_Fury. Fury. Fury. Fu-_

_'No, reason,'_ a voice in her head told her. _'Don't feel. Don't feel.'_ She couldn't afford to be breaking anymore rules. For District 12. For Anna. She had to hold it together. She had to-

He killed Jack. Sweet, good-hearted Jack. Jack, who was probably worth seven times his worthless hide.

'Think of District 12. Think of Anna,' the voice told her. 'Be the good girl, you've always had to-'

Anna. Elsa appraised Hans once more, trying to remember all wonderful things Anna had once said about him, but this grotesque apparition standing before her was such a great contrast that she couldn't recall a single thing. Was this a fit of anger, or was this his true colors? Was he ever genuinely kind, or was it all a farce? If he had been pretending all along, then why had it felt so real?

She stepped down onto the lake, and frost immediately lined her steps, letting her walk with confidence – with as much as she could muster currently. He turned to face her, raising his brow, challenging her.

"You've gone too far," she told him, unconsciously balling her hands.

"I did what was necessary," he countered coolly. This again was new. The furious young man had disappeared, and now came one as icy as her, and even more unshakeable. He didn't sheathe his sword, instead plunging it into the ground before her, before resting his weight on his hilt. "So, what shall it be then?"

"What do you mean?" she asked in the most scornful way she knew.

"Are you going to kill me or not? I can see it your eyes. You want to."

She couldn't answer that.

"If you kill me, you would have to either use my sword, or freeze me to death," the boy named them as if he was reciting a grocery list. "To use the sword, you risk me killing you first, especially since I have better swordsmanship. And before you ask, yes, I will kill you if necessary."

She set her jaw, and dozens of new ice stalagmites appeared somewhere around them.

Hans seemed unfazed. "Freezing me to death, on the other hand, would render Jack's quick death useless, and the Gamemakers will, for sure, never let you leave the Games. In addition, you would have condemned District 12, and Anna."

Some of her anger melted away, and the storm suddenly slowed. Sadness rushed in, taking over the heated sensations, clearing her head as it did. Yes, Hans' actions were despicable, but his assessment of the situation was accurate. She sighed, her shouldering slumping. The torrents of snow turned into a drizzle.

"Of course, there's option three."

She lifted her head, curious against her own will.

The boy removed his sword from the ice, taking three steps back, keeping his blade raised in defense. Then he spoke, "You kill yourself. I'd offer to help you, but now that I think about it," he made a humming noise, pretending to ponder this, "that's far too much effort on my part."

The suggestion was so unexpected that she had thought it a bad attempt at a joke at first. Searching his face, she then realized he was perfectly serious.

"If you want to prove yourself to the Capitol, give them what they want."

What they wanted? They wanted the Snow Queen to surrender, to let them know that even the most powerful citizen of the Districts could never beat them. Bringing herself down would restore the Capitol's pride. Bringing herself down would save Anna.

She pursed her lips together, then wished that she didn't, because now he knew that she was listening to him. Hans smirked at her, apparently enjoying her discomfort. Again, it was unnerving at how he switched so quickly from one face to another. It suddenly occurred to her that out of everyone in the Arena, he was perhaps the most dangerous of all. The Career had been frightening due to physique and madness; the District 5 girl had been dangerous due to her lack of allegiance; even Hiccup and Rapunzel had shaken her a little with their lack of honesty, but it was beyond doubt that Hans was perhaps the best player among them all, because he lacked everything the others had – strength, talent, secret weapons – yet he somehow managed to live this long. She had a feeling if anyone from District 12 actually stood a chance at winning, it wasn't her. It was him.

But should she let him? Should she end her life and let him take her place? Could she, on a clear conscience, allow someone as dangerous as him to return to her home? To her sister?

That was one risk she could never take.

"How about this then?" It was Elsa's turn to challenge him. "I freeze you, then I kill myself."

A flicker of incredulity appeared on his face. Hans clearly hadn't considered that option. "The Capitol wouldn't accept that." He didn't look as certain as they sounded.

"Oh, I think they would," she contended, menace weighing on her every word. Deep inside, she wasn't actually sure of this. She didn't want to kill anyone, even monsters. But in his own words, perhaps it's time she did something 'that was necessary'.

"You wouldn't actually dare to kill me."

But for Anna, she would do anything. "Well, I'm not the only monster."

He spun around, ready to run but she had foreseen this. A flick of her wrist conjured a boulder to block his way, and a thought formed chains to it. He struggled against it, foolishly letting his blade fall to the ground as he did.

Now that he was cornered, she raised her palm towards him. Elsa sucked in a breath. With this action, she would effectively condemn herself forever. She was never going home. She was never going to see her sister. But at least this way, she would keep her safe.

_Goodbye, Anna._

Her hands turned blue, and a bauble of ice came to existence, zipping straight forward towards the redheaded boy.

And_ missed_.

At the last moment, the ice chains had been torn apart, and Hans had been inexplicably yanked out of the line of fire. On closer examination, she noticed that a crook of a frosted staff was hooked around the redhead's neck. That was what pulled him away, but who pulled him away was what really stunned her.

There was a small, but still visible, hole his chest, and there seemed a blue light leaking out of it, like his eyes. He tossed Hans down the ground, making the redhead splutter in disbelief when he saw who his savior was. She herself was frozen in shock.

Jack merely shook his head at her. "Don't be the monster they say you are."

He then pointed his staff at the redhead boy, creasing his forehead in concentration.

A light. A scream.

Ice crept up the redhead's chest, spreading to his neck and his legs. His green eyes darted to her. She somehow remembered that those eyes had once been described as dreamy.

Now, she watched as those eyes turned glassy and cold.

Ten seconds later, a cannon shot.

* * *

Freezing a person was more exhausting than he had expected.

Jack staggered back, managing to hobble away a feet few before collapsing himself. He was still dealing with plenty of brain-fuzz, but he understood what had happened.

He did it - his first human kill. And at the rate the ice was eating him, it would be his last. There was a trace of self-digust, which was expected, but he had no regret. It was better that he did it than her.

"Jack!" She was by his side in seconds. Kneeling down, her hand reached for his face automatically.

"Ow. You're cold."

She withdrew the hand. "I'm sorry."

He tried to shrug. "It doesn't matter. I'm already freezing."

The position that he crumbled him was obviously not a very comfortable one, so he attempted to straighten himself out. Eventually, he reached the conclusion that he couldn't really move himself very well, so he asked her, "A little help?"

"I might hurt you."

He managed to deadpan at her.

She helped him lie down properly, straightening out his legs and arms to maintain whatever little of his blood circulation he had left – which certainly wasn't much, because he, well, had a hole in his heart. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore, and he wasn't sure he had toes even. There was hardly any bleeding though. He suspected this was due to unhealthy amounts of ice in his system, which were slowly but surely eating into his vital organs. Once his heart froze completely, he doubted he'd be able to do anything else anymore. Ah, well, at least he had some fun with the ice powers first.

She sat by his side. Once he had convinced her that there was no way she could hurt him after he had been stabbed in the heart – he meant as a joke, but she looked rather stricken, so he dropped it quickly – she became much less reluctant to touch him. Her fingers ran through his white hair, still amazed by his appearance changes. It wasn't lost on him that it was an intimate gesture, so under other circumstances it would have been rather awkward. But hey, he was dying, so whatever.

Every five minutes or so, he would have a massive shiver attack, and she would let him grasp her own arm as he fought back his own screams. She would upset as it was, so he wasn't going to make this any more difficult than it needed to be.

He asked her talk to him, so she did, even though conversation wasn't one of her strengths. She told him about how Hans had rescued her during the Feast, how she had tried to pull the romance angle with Hans, and how everything just went astray. He told her about his alliance with the crusty Merida, and made her smile when he recited his hastily composed 'Monkey Song', though the stiffening in his throat made it difficult to get it in tune.

"I don't suppose you still have the blowtorch, do you?" he asked after the tenth ice attack.

"I lost it during the Feast."

He tried not to look so disappointed that all potential sources of warmth had been exhausted. "Ah."

He must not have been very good at hiding it, because the next moment later, she got up. When she returned, she had a pile of wooden sticks in her hand. She dropped them next to him, and with a determined tone, she demanded him, "I'm afraid I'll need a briefer course on this again."

He shook his head. "You can't do this in winter, Elsa."

She was stubborn, of course. Taking up one of the thicker sticks, she stuck into another one and begun it rubbing furiously between her palms. The pile of sticks promptly gained a pile of snow on top of it

Jack rolled his eyes. "Elsa, it'll never catch on."

He didn't get an immediate answer from her, and when his eyes flitted to her, he spotted tears springing in her eyes. Then he realized that this hadn't been the first time he had said that.

"Please don't cry," he begged. He hated crying. He had seen his mother cry, his sister crying, and the last thing he wanted to have imprinted in his brain was the most beautiful girl on Earth crying too.

She quickly swiped her eyes, taking in controlled breaths, her eyes still misty. "I'm sorry." She breathed out, her voice quivering. "I'm sorry."

He gave her a critical look, then changed his mind. "Okay. Go ahead, cry. I'm serious," when she gave him a skeptical look. "Really. If it makes you feel better, bawl your eyes out." He halted to ponder. "Um, not literally, please. You do have pretty eyes."

That gained a smile and a tear from her. "If I really bawled my eyes out, I think it may never stop hailing."

He felt the ice-grip on his heart tighten again, and he drew in a sharp breath. Both of them didn't speak while he struggled for another twenty seconds.

When his breathing relaxed again, Elsa finally asked him, "Why did you kill him?"

He gave her a blank look, pretending not to comprehend.

"Don't do that, Jack." She shook her head disapprovingly at him. "I know you hated it, so why did you?"

He sighed, giving in. "I'm a guardian, Elsa. Thrive on protective instinct, y'know." She seemed puzzled, so he reluctantly elaborated, "That includes protecting you from guilt."

"You do know I can handle myself." It was chide, but it was more affectionate than actually rebuking.

He wheezed a little, feeling his ribcage rattle as another chill shot through his body. "No, you can barely light a-"

There was a interlude while he battled another attack, and she ran her fingers through his hair, not knowing any words of encouragement. When he could finally catch his breath, he was really tuckered out, and he was increasing sure that when the next attack came, it would be his last one.

Knowing that time indeed was of essence now, he hurried to speak to her, grabbing her hand anxiously. "Elsa?"

Her answer was instant. "Yes?"

"I heard what he told you. Don't kill yourself."

She didn't answer.

"It won't solve anything. If the Gamemakers don't want to change their mind, they won't. Don't do anything stupid. It's not worth it."

Cringing, he tried to lift his hands, but he couldn't feel them. Fortunately, Elsa was quick to take his hands in her own, seeking instructions from him. He nodded weakly to the silver band dangling off his left arm. "Take it."

She removed it, still perplexed, then sliding it up her own left hand. Satisfied, Jack rested his head back, letting himself one last full breath. He felt a slight discomfort in at the left side of torso, and he knew what was coming.

"Live, okay?" he told her, his usually cocky smile seeming oddly gentle. "And think of me sometime."

She nodded, unable to speak as her face crumpled. Tears flowed freely down, and he took pride that he let her do that.

He inhaled again, bracing himself. He found himself thinking about home. He thought of his mother nagging about work before ruffling his hair and telling him to behave. He thought of Emma prodding him endlessly till he told her a story, and he chuckled internally at all the condescending remarks at the end of each one. He had a teeny regret that he was never going to see them again, but hey, maybe he'd get to see his dad again. It had been years since his father's passing, and he barely remembered anything about the man he had been named after, but he recalled that he was kindly man, and he told pretty good stories too. He imagined that when his mother took over storytelling for Emma, she would tell that he had gone to join the angels with his father.

The burning inside his ribcage swelled, and he could help but be slightly apprehensive for what was coming. Then, he had an idea. "Elsa?"

"Yes?" She sounded eager and fearful.

He could barely speak, so she had to lean her ear against his lips just to catch what he said. When she understood, she seemed doubtfuland for moment, he feared that she wouldn't.

"Please."

She sighed, then answered, "Alright."

Elsa pushed the white bangs off his forehead. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead. He shuddered at first as he felt the ice trickling in, then the pain dissipated.

When the final attack came, he could barely feel it. Numbed blissfully in the cold, he felt an ironically warm sort of comfort washing over him. As he slipped in gentle sleep, he was convinced that it was an angel who held him in her arms.

* * *

After the cannon fired, the girl, who feeling infinitely less than an angel, wept. She hugged his limp, stiff form, hating and cursing herself as the flakes poured down. She was ice, ice was cold, and cold was death.

Eventually, she let him go, because there was nothing more she could to. She had frozen one of the few friends she would ever have, and whether she wanted it or not, given the Gamemakers free reign in eliminating her. They probably had some disgusting, terrifying method of death in store just for this moment, to give the audience an especially gory end for the Snow Queen. Taking her life was starting to become rather attractive.

But Jack wanted her to live, and told her to live despite the Capitol. She twisted the band around her wrist unconsciously, and without knowing, the storm's fury had died. If she had to go down, she would go down fighting, the way Jack did.

She was about to push herself to her feet, when she paused. She gazed down him, his ragged clothes and his various wounds. This wouldn't do.

She took one end of his coat and focused intently to it. Little seams of ice threaded themselves into the cloth, and holes in his garments disappeared. She let his coat stay blue, as it was before, but she changed his shirt to white instead, and his pants to a light brown. Moody at times, yes, but Jack never one to dwell too long in the shadows.

She took his staff, and placed his two stiff hands, then set it down on his chest with the crook right under his chin, the way she had heard knights of old had been buried with their swords.

Drawing herself back to examine her work, she felt slightly better that he seemed more like his cheery self, yet there was an aura of nobility about him, like he was truly a knight. Or a warrior. Or in his terms, a guardian.

She sat still at that moment, holding a vigil in silence for a minute, before she decided that it was time to go. Yet again, however, she paused.

The simple kiss she had given the white-haired boy had felt different from the ones with Hans. With Hans, it was for show, but for Jack, it was for him. It was a kiss of mercy, to spare him from pain, and unlike the previous kisses – if they could be called so after this one – she actually had felt something. She had felt regret and grief, and she poured that in that kiss she gave him.

When she leaned in to him this time, she still felt regret and grief, but she felt other things too. She felt gratefulness, and hope, and determination.

Pulling her lips away from his, she rose to her feet. The Gamemakers were undoubtedly plotting something terrible for her, so it had best that she went on her way now.

Before she departed from the frozen lake, however, she stopped by the shore to turn back on last time. Pulling her blonde braid next to her head, she raised three fingers to her lips, then held them out toward the boy who was her guardian.

Then she sprinted into the snow-ridden woods.

* * *

**Game Centre**

The entire council was in chaos. Gamemakers flustered hurriedly about, trying to cover the basics like removing the bodies while fluttering anxiously about the bigger problems. What made it worse was that the Head Gamemaker was mysteriously absent from the centre, and nobody knew what to do.

"Oh, shut up, you chirping nitwits!"

Well, besides the Sergeant.

Everyone on the council turned to face her, eyes wide in anticipation.

Organized and brisk as ever, she began, "Here's what we're doing. One, we're not panicking." She walked up a fidgeting Gamemaker, whacking him with a file she had. "Man up, bile-brain."

"Yes, m'am," the red-faced man answered, the fresh bruise across his cheek still smarting.

She grunted disbelievingly. "Alright. Number two, we need to come up with something to deal with the ice mutant. She needs to be taken down pronto, but she must also be taken down with vigor. You three," she used her finger to gesture at the three gulping Gamemakers, "-come up with something to impress me."

"Yes, m'am," they replied instantly, getting back to their desks.

"Three, I need someone to melt off the snow in the Autumn."

One by one, the Gamemakers were given tasks, and a sense of normalcy began to return to the programming halls. For the last Gamemaker, which was also the fidgeting one that she had slapped earlier, Sgt. Calhourn gave special task. "I need you to get James Sullivan on the line. He has a new announcement to make."

"Yes, m'am," the subordinate piped, but she detected some uncertainty.

"Is there a problem?" she demanded of him, raising the file, ready to strike again.

"Oh, no, no." He waved his hands frantically. "It's just that, um-"

Calhourn huffed, almost snarling, "Out. With. It."

"What exactly does, um, the announcement entail?"

"You truly are dumb, aren't you?" she asked him bluntly.

He wisely decided not retort.

Calhourn was starting understand how Black must have felt amongst his own workers.

"The star-crossed romance of District 12 is over," she explained. "Now, what do _you_ think the announcement entails?"

The nature of his task then dawned upon him. "Oh."

"Good. Now scram."

The Gamemaker did just that, leaving the Seargeant a moment of freedom. Stepping back up to Black's personal perch, she frowned as she scanned the hologram of the Arena below him.

"What are you up to Black?" she murmured to herself.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

_"Attention all tributes-"_

A young skinny boy sat himself up, wincing slightly when he shifted his wounded leg. The dragon he leaned against also pricked his ears in curiosity.

_"There has been a rule change."_

The boy rolled his eyes, telling his dragon that considering how often the Gamemakers change the rules, they might as well just demolish the Games altogether. The dragon ignored him and continued to feast on the pile of fish.

_"The earlier revision of the rule which had allowed two victors from the same district has been revoked."_

The boy suddenly stiffened.

_"Only one victor may be crowned. Good luck."_

* * *

**S/N: Believe it or not, this chapter had a long time coming. I planned it right from the beginning. **

**As a strictly canon shipper, I don't extensively support Tadahoney or Godashi (whatever the names are), but don't hate them either. I just wanted a bridging point between Flynn and Gogo. **

**Hans has been one of the trickiest characters to handle, because I wanted to keep him as close to the Frozen one as I could, but not let him being a complete jerk or dumbass. Working his motives was especially tough, because in this AU, Elsa isn't royalty, and him trying to win her over made no sense unless there was something else tying them together. So despite hating Helsa quite fervently before, I decided to go with it, but making it an antagonistic sort of attraction instead, mixed with loads of jealousy, and I think it turned out better than I thought. I'm kinda proud of Hans's POV in the chapter, and I might even say that it's one of the best things I've ever written. **

**The Short story in the story about the general (he may have been an advisor) who killed his wife to prove his loyalty is one I read when I was a child, but it's really long ago so I can't remember who wrote it or much details, except maybe it was a Chinese legend. I remember that I was pretty angry with the general/advisor, but just because I sympathized with the wife (did she ask to be from the enemy kingdom? Why couldn't you just work things out?)**

**Some important things happened in this chappie, so here's a run-down:**

**Death Recap**

**1 - Shen, Gothel**

**3 - Honey Lemon**

**4 - Dagur, Heather**

**5 - W. Dingwall**

**6 - Turbo, Taffyta**

**7 – Male &amp; Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)**

**8 - Greno, Rapunzel**

**9 - Nameless Boy, Nameless Girl**

**10 –Jack, Toothiana**

**11 - Vanellope**

**12 - Hans**

**Remaining Players**

**2 - Astrid, Hiccup**

**3 - Hiro**

**5 - Merida**

**11 - Ralph**

**12 - Elsa**

**Known Alliances**

**Team Vikings: Astrid &amp; Hiccup (&amp; Toothless)**

**Team Rebels - Hiro &amp; Ralph**

**DISBANDED**** \- Team Star****-crossed: Hans &amp; Elsa**

**Metal Band Band**

**Hiro - 2 bands and 1 circuit-fried band (the one that Gothel stole)**

**Ralph**

**Elsa**

* * *

**Up Next: 0.6666666667, or 4 out of 6, because that's the odds of the remaining people. We're approaching the endgame, so hold onto your hats and glasses, folks. It will probably be across 2-3 chapters, like the Feast. Here's a hint of what's to come:**

**Merida will have an epiphany.**

**Elsa will face her greatest challenge yet. Ish.**

**Toothless will gain a passenger - um, passengers. **

**Hiro will strike a bargain. **

**Astrid will have troubling questions.**

**Hiccup will build something. **

**Ralph will actually do some wrecking. I think. **

**I will finally tell you what those flippin' armbands are for.**

**Someone will have to make a sacrifice. **

**Some people will die.**

***scans story outline* Well, I think that's enough spoilers for now.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Guess who broke her chapter record? **

**Ladies and Gents, I present my 14000+ word chapter. Consider this a gift, a **_**parting**_** gift, in which she who give this part of the story give it to her audience before vanishing on a four month long hiatus. Details at the end. **

**That aside... 391 reviews for last chapter! I know this must seem stupid, but that it's just that it's been my goal since forever to have 1:10 chapter ratio (ya, there is some double counting, and I left out the existence of the prologue and the prank chapter to make myself feel better, but whatever.) I'm hopelessly frivolous and calculative. But all that aside, thank you guys for sticking this long, or if you've just started, coming on board, for probably my first (and possibly last) most popular story ever. Until the sequel beats it. Hopefully. **

**After reading another story that did it, I have been thinking about writing a 'Making of' chapter at the end of this story, where I'll basically talk about about how this fic started, how the story developed, delving into some character analysis and why I gave people the motives that they have. I'd like to know if anyone would be interested in reading it, so yeah, comment. **

**Mailbox:**

**the fan man: Once again, thank you truly for your praise,and wow, next to Moonsong? Cool!**

**Electricalangel12: Punzie's gone - physically. Her spirit lives on. Eugene's a wreck now. And yes, prepare to see some of your favorite people die. Besides the ones that just did in this chapter, I mean. **

**HardWrapping: Thank you for reviewing. I appreciate it really. Killing of people I like is really hard.**

**MissiriKoharehn: Hi there, my wonderful Beta! Once again, your comments on the story are invaluable, and thank you for helping the battle against typos.**

**manyotpsforlife: Thank you! I've a feeling you kind of hate me right now though. **

**BurningMoon: Thank you. I think options of who's in the Big Five are now much more obvious, but which of the four that will actually get out will be a mystery.**

**Maggietheawesome: Your review was hilarious, so thanks for writing it! But funny stuff aside, yes, letting Rapunzel go won't be easy for me...sigh. I'm glad that my portrayal of her in this fic worked out. **

**waveringshadow: Sorry. Elsa isn't dead...yet, because it's not her time...yet. I mean, I need to turn her into a super villain first. Wait, did I say that out loud? Um, um, um, look, Night Fury! Nah, okay, she's not really going to be bad. Much. Maybe. I don't know, she might die the next chapter or something. I think Gothel honestly deserved a worse death, but whatever -Disney character. **

**WarriorQueen14: You saw Wreck-it Ralph! Yay! I love that film! (Duh, hence fanfiction). I would love to hear your opinions on Hans in this chapter, since you're one of the few usual reviewers I have who doesn't actually hate him (I don't hate him either. I love a good anti-hero Hans story.) . It would be really interesting to see Anna's POV after this chapter, I imagine, but it won't really fit in the story flow. I never really thought of it that way, but yes, Gothel's death is very fitting for her.**

**Guest (a.k.a friend of Burning Moon): I'm really sorry but...ya, I guess I kinda killed Jack. Well, the way I look at it, the effects of Rapunzel's healing won't disappear just because she'd dead, so no Astrid's not going to bleed to death...yet (yeah, I love to use that word.) My theory for why Gothel died in the Tangled film is because she had been relying on the power of Flower (lol rhymes) so long that when it got cut off, she went into a panic attack which made her age much quicker than if she just kept cool, but she's like, what, hundreds of years old. But interesting idea - never occurred to me. **

**Awsomaniatica: I love writing cliffhangers (but yeah, hate being on the receiving end). I didn't really notice the Ralph/Baymax parallel, but... Hey, it works. As desired, a Flynn scene is delivered. **

**SnowflakesAndFire: Oh. Sorry. Um. Jack's kinda dead. Err...Ralph's not dead...yet. Ahahahahahahahahaha! (Coughs) Sorry. **

**Bleep Bloop 1: Glad that you enjoyed this. I have to say though, Hans may not have hurt Elsa physically, but he has definitely left some pretty bad scars in her head. **

**GameboyNinjaUltimate Icarus (your name is quite tough to type): Glad you like the last chapter, sorry this one doesn't have that much action, but yeah, it's worse. **

**heartfulyumi: I'm sorry, but this time Jack's not faking. But he stills lives in her memories! And maybe his sister's heart too.**

**TheCatReadtheBook: thanks for pointing out Ralph being able to read thing. It was a deliberate decision to make him illiterate for this story (it has to do with his backstory, and him being from a very poor district), but that said, you've reminded me that there is one sentence that Ralph (in this fic) is able to read, and that is the sentence 'You are my hero." During the Feast, he was able to read off those words scratched upon Merida's bow, which was why he spared her life. It's pretty obvious that someone had taught him those words before...**

**Maranoismylife: Thank you for your praise. This is really a heart-wrenching story, I realized, but hey, it's the Hunger Games. Losing Rapunzel is going to have certain effects on Flynn (I'm not done with him yet, obviously.) and it's going to play a role in a future story tread I'm building. Likewise for Elsa. All the people with love interest in this story tend to get into pretty bad shit.**

**So, time for the disappearing act. Whooz. I'll be back in December, hopefully the first week of it. For now, I'll be studying 24/7 and having no life while struggling to get some As. Yay. If you drop a review, I'll probably reply via PM box, unless you're a Guest which would mean...I'll reply you four months later. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	43. Chapter 41: 06667 Part 1

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 41: 0.6667 Part 1

* * *

**Dear all, **

**I'm still on hiatus, but there's a short break between the blocks of exams I have, so here's a full-length chappie for the treat. **

**Here's a metal band recap first, since you've probably forgotten:p**

**Hiro - 3**

**Ralph - 1**

**Elsa - 1 (Given to her by Jack)**

* * *

_Previously, on the Odds of Five:_

_The odds of the Games has shrunken down to six players. Merida's alive, but barely, after surviving the massive meltdown in the Winter Quarter. Hiro and Ralph scurry to set in the last pieces of the Rebellion plan after failing to save Rapunzel from Gothel's clutches. After a terrifying face-off with her now departed district mate and unintentionally killing her ex-ally Jack, Elsa's currently on the run from whatever the Gamemakers have in store for her. Meanwhile, Hiccup's struggling with the newest change in rules..._

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

_"Attention all tributes. There has been a rule change."_

The two boys glanced up, startled to hear James Sullivan's voice again. The younger boy eventually decided to return to his work, while the elder continued staring up in the sky, though there was no face attached to the booming voice.

_"The earlier revision of the rule which had allowed two victors from the same district has been revoked."_

The hand belonging to the wiry boy froze in the air before he too lifted his head to the sky again, all ears.

_"Only one victor may be crowned. Good luck."_

Once silence confirmed that there was no further news to be had, Hiro turned back to the laser screen projected by the metal cylinder on his lap. However, the frown on his face confirmed that the weight on his mind had just increased tenfold.

"The numbers are dropping," his blocky companion informed him.

"I know." Dragging his finger across the screen, his eyes followed the numbers and symbols, committing each and every to memory.

"There are only six of us left," the other boy went on.

"I know." There were about eight more lines to go, so he plowed on, not even noticing that he had started clenching his left fist for no particular reason. The silver bands hanging on that arm jingled together at the subconscious motion.

"They'll be ripping each other's heads if we don't do something now." The good thing about being in the blindspot was that they were away from the Capitol's eyes and ears. Speaking to each other about the plan was less painful that way.

But still painful, nonetheless. "I know."

The bigger boy made a huff. "Well?"

He had finished reading the last line, but he didn't look up. Running his fingers through his black spikes, he sighed.

_Four out of six._ He hadn't told Ralph about it yet, but he needed to wait for at least one more cannon shot before he could make a move. He didn't want to decide who was going to be left behind. He'd rather the Gamemakers do it for him, and with an announcement like that, he knew that the numbers would fall again. It would be a cold-blooded move, but he wouldn't be able to keep his prejudices out of his decision. This way was better. For him, at least.

But Ralph was right. The longer they waited, the more unlikely it was for them to reach other tributes before they all slaughtered each other blind. He couldn't delay it any longer.

"Do you actually have a plan to talk them into it?" the District 11 tribute asked him. He was standing by the lake of the cove, staring very intently at what appeared to be some rope in his hand.

Hiro shook his head.

Ralph threw his hands in the air and muttered dismally, "Perfect."

"I managed to convince you, didn't I?" The younger boy retorted.

"That's because I'm a really nice guy." Hiro managed an eye-roll. "No, really, I am. At this point, people are scared. Really, really scared, and they will kill first, ask questions later. You need to work out the space and time – a little buffer for them to digest the wholething."

The self-declared genius huffed, staring dejectedly at the screen. He fingered at the compass in his pocket. If he was lucky, he might still be able to find Jack through his band - if the boy wasn't dead yet. But for other tributes, other _children_ he needed to save, he hadn't any clue of where to find them. At the same time, he needed to convince them not to kill each other, if only for a few seconds.

Then it hit him. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Provided he could find her.

There was something flashing on his holographic screen, so Hiro did a double-tap on it to expand the words. When he had finished reading it, there was a sour taste in his mouth. It seemed that his task of seeking for tributes was about to made infinitely easier. And their chance of dying had also risen exponentially.

"We have to go now," he told his companion, jamming the off-switch of the projection device before shoving it in his bag. He slung the knapsack over his shoulder.

The added alarm in his manner set Ralph on his feet immediately. "What happened?"

Each word was like a weight on his tongue. "They've initiated the endgame."

* * *

**Capitol – Game Centre**

Pitch had to admit he was a trifle offended to find all operations going smoothly after returning to the control room. He frowned as he stepped towards the dais, gazing down at the control panel. Instead of being tossed up in a fluster of confusion, the Gamemakers moved with purpose and direction. Odd, since he knew that the death of the 10 boy would undoubtedly set the sniveling shrimps in panic. He started to wonder if Calhourn was getting a bit too good at covering for him.

Speaking of the good Sergeant, where was she? It was unlike her to be skiving at her post. Could it be that the President had decided that he was doing adequately in his position and called her away? Doubtful, since Lotso had sent him a few messages telling him to buck up – all of which he intended to disregard.

He pondered this as he descended to the main stage, his golden eyes rolling over the images and the figures floating in the air.

"The endgame has been initiated, sir," one proud, cheerful Gamemaker announced to him.

Instead of the joy that was expected of him, the pale man spun around and yelled, "What!"

The entire room stilled. The productive, efficient Game control suddenly turned into a gallery of petrified figures. Each of his steps echoing against the marble, Pitch spoke to the unfortunate official, "Did I ask you to initiate it?"

There was an audible gulp, then silence.

"Did I?"

There was still no reply, from the victim of the Head Gamemaker's menacing gaze or the other fearful subordinates.

His voice rang out against the blackened walls, "_DID I?_"

A quiet voice raptured the stillness, "Sergeant Calhourn did, sir."

Slowly, the tall, lithe figure turned towards the speaker, his golden oculars widening with mock surprise. "Did she now?"

The Gamemaker who had answered shuddered, but he did not look away. "She did, sir."

The lull that dropped in the room was an uneasy one, and each of the officials began to anxiously wonder if they would ever step out of this alive. Yet, just as suddenly as his outburst had been was Pitch's mild reply, "Alright then. Carry on."

Like a train rolling jerkily forward after an abrupt halt, the Gamemakers slipped back into motion, though vestiges of the fright still lingered in the air. The Head Gamemaker merely observed them with cool disinterest, making some wonder if it had all been an act on his part. Of course, none but Pitch knew exactly what went on his mind, and what did indeed appear in his mind was a simple word. Not that he would tell any of the lowly fools.

Sabotage.

Initiating the endgame was considered a last-minute manoeuvre. It was often hoped that somehow or another the remaining tributes would seek each other out and finish the Game on their own. This was not always the case, however, especially in large-scale Arenas with too much running room. In the heads of his subordinates, initiating the endgame at this point was a wise move, but that's because they didn't quite understand what the programming for this year's endgame entailed.

He had taken huge risks for these Games, and he had no regrets about it, but perhaps he should have known better than to leave Calhourn at the desk. She had no desire to be Head Gamemaker herself, yes, but she could have other reasons for desiring his dismissal. And his demise.

He read the figures of the screen, barely displaying any concern as he noted that the Muttation RD011 had already been released. On the inside, he seethed in chagrin. Calhourn had certainly pillaged through his programs, and she knew exactly which piece to move. Reversal of action was impossible at this point, and so was escape. Everything that happened in the Arena happened in his name, and that included the mistakes.

"Try not to kill everyone while you're at it," he murmured to one of the Gamemakers nearby. "We do need a victor, after all."

And if they didn't have one, well, he might as well shoot himself and save Lotso the trouble.

* * *

**Winter Quarter**

She should be cold, but she wasn't. There was a sweltering, uncomfortable heat rising in the atmosphere, choking and dry. It was as if someone had taken the entire quarter and stuffed it in a boiler.

Merida waded through the murky water, each movement forward ending with a 'plop' when the muddy boots sunk into the liquid surface. Any sign of snow had melted away completely, and the flood waters continued to recede.

The throbbing at the back of her throat told her how dehydrated she was, yet she made no action to quench the thirst. The water below her knees were packed with silt and other unidentified black substances, making the insides of her guts lurch unpleasantly.

She had wept until the dawn. If the Gamemakers had given her good odds before, they would have plummeted by now. Her image as the talented archer with the score of eleven must seem to be a jarring contrast with the scarlet-eyed, quivering shade wadding through the Winter Quarter. She didn't feel like a heroine. She hadn't felt like the girl who had proudly volunteered herself during the reaping, holding her head high as if she owned the world. She was a Dunbroch, and she feared nothing.

Now, she still feared nothing, but for entirely different reasons. She couldn't bring herself to fear. After Jack had disappeared beneath the waves, she had tried focusing on warming her frostbitten hand, trying to forget her grief. She had tried to occupy herself with warming up, or drying her clothes, or trying to understand where the ice came from, but she couldn't.

Or rather, she wouldn't. Maybe it was a result of being soaked for hours, or maybe she was coming down with a fever, but she found that she couldn't care less. It was as if she had been numbed to everything - cold, fear, even the gooey disgustingness that came from sloshing through the silt. Perhaps it was tiredness. The warrior spirit in her seemed to have retired, and she could barely bring herself to care when she had heard two consecutive cannon shots. Her active mind however took note, and told her it meant that there were only six left.

The present odds should be a source of joy to her, but she couldn't bring herself to feel that. She couldn't take pleasure in knowing that the odds of her getting out had increased because eighteen other children had died. Eighteen other children, including Dingwall, Jack and Vanellope.

She could feel a prickling sensation behind her lid again, but no tears rolled down. She was parched enough, thank you, and there was no need accentuate her already painful journey through the floating jetsam. However, another part of her felt like as if even crying wasn't enough. She wanted to fall to her knees, scream at the top of her lungs and curse every oath she'd ever known, and demand from the Capitol, why, oh why would they tear children from their parents and force them to battle out in a Darwinian arena.

It sickened her that Capitol would manage to do this to her, but she couldn't deny it any longer. Amidst the Careers, the Demon Bear, the crazy killings, she had lost herself - a phenomenon she had once believed was only possible for the weak-willed tributes. When she peered down at her muddy reflection, she barely recognized the hollowed eyes staring back. Lacerations scrawled over her face and the dabs of blood could have been mistaken for a child's finger-painting. The cut on her scalp combined with the irregularly-cropped curls seemed to age her by decades. The bow and quiver that had once been as a statement of her identity and her pride was now a reminder of all she had seen and done in this hell-hole. The Capitol had taken something that she had treasured so deeply about herself, and twisted it into something revolting.

Merida stumbled on, barely able to scowl with the mud caked on her skin. They had made _her_ revolting.

She was wrong all along. She should have never volunteered. She should have never tried changing her fate. She should have let her mother push her into the satin dresses and memorize good lines for small talk. She would have died, yes, but only on the outside. She could still be Merida inside, in the quiet of her own bedroom, and bury her face in the laced pillows to scream out her frustrations. The Games had let her be whom she had always wanted to be, on the outside and in, before wrenching out both the good and evil in her until there was nothing left. For the first time since the Games began, she didn't want to go home. Though it had once been her motivation, thoughts of District 5 only sent dread into her heart.

She could play it out in her mind. Her parents would meet her at the train and they would take a step back in shock, then would pretend that they didn't. Each one would take one of her battered arms, and they would lead her gently to the stage to take a bow, before hustling her carefully to the manor.

The boys would be told to stay quiet, not to 'frighten the poor lass with loud noises, y'a see.' The funny thing was, her brothers would actually obey. In a matter of fact, they would avoid her as much as they could, so that they would never see the full extent of the wreckage she was. Her parents would step lightly around her, never asking too much or bothering her too little, always watching her with big eyes as if she was a wee maiden of porcelain.

The worst part would be that they'd wait for her; wait for her to snap out of the scare, to come back to the bouncing, excited sister and daughter that spoke of fate with boldness and confidence. But she knew that she couldn't. She was broken beyond repair. If she were to go home, it wouldn't be Merida Dunbroch who went home. It would be nothing more than grotesque haunt of the District 5 heroine, whose pale yet somehow dark countenance would be a reminder that the Capitol always won.

When she finally arrived at dry land, she heard James Sullivan's announcement. Her first conclusion was that something must have happened to the District 12 tributes. After all, the rule was really for them. She wondered if it was the ice witch who had survived or her male counterpart, or perhaps both were dead. Hopefully both of them, then.

Taking squishing steps forward, her mind then wandered to the District 2 tributes. She pondered over the likelihood that they would have been one of the four shots that morning, but something in her told her that the odds had been in their favor for some time. So, no then. It was far too unlikely. However with the new announcement, everything would have to change between them.

…Or perhaps not. She had seen the way the District 2 career had looked at her counterpart.

As Merida pulled herself into the depilated, muddy forest, she heard a howl. The redhead spun, bow and arrow in place automatically, her eyes surveying the woods. She was weary, but she hadn't abandoned all her habits.

One by one, they emerged from the shadows, as if they were born from the gloom itself. Their eyes were glinting yellow, and their fangs were bared at her. Guttural growls echoed about, and she forced her breaths to steady though her heart was already on an accelerating march. As much as she dreaded going home, she had worked far too hard and lost too much to die in here.

She inhaled. No matter what it took, she was going home.

The first wolf-mutt that had dared to leap at her immediately sprouted a projectile its skull. The next one gained an arrow in its torso, and the following a strike in the foreleg. She was well aware that she was outnumbered though, so she ran. The beasts were fleeted-footed creatures. Yelping and barking, they pursued her through the soaked vines and littered branches that the flood had left behind. She pulled arrow after arrow, the twang in her left arm getting more and more prominent each time. Yet, she gnashed her teeth together, shooting and running though her body felt closer to falling apart every second.

Without the snow, she couldn't recognize the landscape. But if she could, she would have realized that every step she took away from the beast took her closer to frozen quarter that once bore trees of red and yellow.

* * *

**Summer Quarter**

She woke this time to the sound of purposefully hushed whispers and annoyed reptilian grunting. As Astrid blearily propped herself up by the elbows, rubbing her eyes, she grumpily asked herself why she had chosen to run around the rain last night. But then, better safe than sorry.

Sometime in midnight, she had woken up to the sound of a canon, and then another. Her crippled companion and his dragon had been snoozing peacefully, so she had tiptoed her way out of their cave with her axe, peering out of the cave. Though moonlight had been blotted out by ominous thunderclouds, the splatters of purple lightning in the sky had given her enough vision to note the hovercraft zooming over the quarter. That had been enough to confirm her suspicions that the deaths that had recently occurred had taken place nearby, thus it had warranted an investigation. She acknowledged that the deaths might have been accidental - a trip, a fall and the snap of the neck could have been the cause, for all she knew. But she couldn't risk it - risk the possibility that another tribute might be lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike.

While tracking down the hovercraft, she had been fortunate of spotting one of the bodies that had been removed from the Arena. The luscious locks of golden hair, seventy-feet in length, had gleamed like a river of sunlight against the billowing clouds. There had been an odd pang in her heart when she had seen it. Whether reluctantly, or willingly, or simply out of compassion for Hiccup, the girl with the long, golden hair was the only reason why District 2 still had two tributes. So despite herself, Astrid had felt the slightest sadness over the girl's passing. Compared to her own despicable Career-bred allies, the District 8 girl had been a kindly one - at least from Hiccup's recounts. He had spoken of Rapunzel so fondly that it had caused her to question herself on why he had decided to choose her in the end instead of the warmer-hearted girl. Whatever Hiccup's reasons, he would be devastated to learn that his old ally had fallen, even if it meant that they were closer to going home.

Breaking out of her musings, Astrid had hurried over to that spot where she had seen the hovercraft retrieve the District 8 tribute's body. She had clutched her axe tighter to her chest, half-hoping to catch the killer and half-hoping not too.

But there had been no one in sight. She hadn't been even able to find tracks due to the rain. She had circled the area a couple of times, about to give up when she had found a small, flat, circle-shaped object on the ground.

Retrieving it, she had discovered it to be some kind of compass, except that its arrow did not point north. In the darkness, she had been able to make out some words scrawled on the back - rough instructions that had indicated that blue meant 'far' and red meant 'near'. There had been other things written too that had looked like vulgarities, so she had ignored them and tried focusing on using the compass instead. She had strolled up and down the area a few times, moving forward when the arrow had turned red and spinning around whenever it had turned blue. All her efforts however had proven to be pointless in the end, when she had found herself face to face with the graffitied cliff wall. It was the same that she had encountered once with the Career during their search for Hiccup.

She had shaken her head, and returned to the cave. It had irritated her to see that her companion continued to slumber on as if nothing had happened. But then she had remembered that fighting his blood loss had been no easy battle, so she had let him off. The Night Fury however had awoken to the sound of her entering, scooting her over and giving her a little space to lie down. Noting how she shivered in her drenched state, it had created a small fire to keep her warm. She had petted its snout – a deed that it only let her do after Hiccup made her perform what he had dubbed inelegantly as 'the hand thing'.

She recalled being terribly uncomfortable with shutting her eyes and putting herself in the claws and teeth of a beast that she had been taught was the worst of all muttations. But when she felt the beast's warm breath flow past her fingers and gazed into those virescent eyes, it came as a revelation to her that this was no mindless creature, but a sentient being of its own independence. Since then, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy that Hiccup could share such a bond with this magnificent beast.

Of course, maybe she overestimated the extent of that bond, taking into account the noise pollution coming from outside the cave. She groaned, wanting to plonk herself down on the rough cavern floor. The Gamemakers could wait a few minutes, couldn't they?

Of course, the fierce whispers and animalistic snorts only got louder, despite the fact that they were trying to stay quiet. Grudgingly, she pushed herself up all the way, throwing herself onto her feet. She grabbed her axe, more out of habit that actual intent to use it. After all, when she delivered Hiccup back to his father, she intended to do so with his appendages intact.

* * *

Toothless was being especially uncooperative today. The ferocious beast had been focused completely on finishing the fish pile, uncaring about his human companion's obvious anxiety.

"C'mon, bud, please," he begged. This was probably the fourth time the Night Fury had shoved him off today.

Toothless narrowed his eyes at him, as if to inform him again that, no, he was not a pony and he would not be taking him on any rides, fish or fish-less.

For such an intelligent creature, why couldn't he understand the danger? He had a broken tibia bone! He could barely stand as it was, even less _walk_. And _run_. He needed to run desperately. Any moment, Astrid could come out of the cave with her axe, prepared to lob his head off his shoulders. His only chance of escape was if the infernally obsinate dragon caved in and gave him a ride. Perhaps he had some doubts about flight, but if survival demanded it, he wouldn't object. Of course, the dragon seemed to have lots and lots of problems with it for no clear reason.

"Alright. What's with the racket?"

He jumped, which was bad actually, because when he landed, his left leg struck the ground. He spent the next several second clutching the injured appendage, hopping in circles and going, _"Ow, ow, ow, ow…"_

He then felt an arm looped over his shoulders, holding him steady as he fought off the splays of agony. "You shouldn't be standing, you know."

He turned his head, and in astonishment realized that that very arm belonged to his blonde district mate, who was watching with a mix of concern and disapproval. Come to think about it, he shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't as if he could expect Toothless to sprout arms, right?

...um, right? Never mind.

"A-as-as-trid," he stuttered, clumsily unhooking their arms, scrambling backwards, avoiding a fall only when his back hit Toothless' own. The dragon was no help whatsoever, giving him on a momentary glance before resuming to its acts of gluttony. _'Truly a useless reptile,' _Hiccup thought to himself, wondering if he should be anxious or irritated. But of course, he could worry about it once he addressed the clear and present dangers. "H-h-hey, Astrid. Hi, Astrid. Hi. Um, hi."

She rolled her eyes, blowing back her stringy bangs, an action that was still strangely attractive despite the fact that she was probably going to lodge an axe in his skull any moment.

Hang a sec. Where was that axe?

Hiccup then realized that she had dumped it on a nearby shrub before scurrying over to help him. He had advised her two days ago that Toothless was not very fond of weaponry, so it was best if she didn't bring her axe near him. She must have remembered that, and maybe that's why Toothless didn't treat her as a threat right now.

Maybe she was planning to strangle him. _Oh joy._

She folded her arms, a frown on her lips but her sapphires still glittering with amusement. "Could you try not to look as if someone's perpetually trying to kill you?"

"I-I-I, ah, I-I-" he couldn't quite formulate a suitable response because in his head, there was already one -_'Oh, you see, I can't actually, um, manage one right now, because you are, well, going to try and KILL ME!'_

Astrid simply shook her head at him, spinning away from him and lumbering over to grab her axe. Hiccup tensed up at once, nudging the dragon behind him and earning a frustrated growl. He shot a pleading look at the creature, hoping somehow their bond lent some kind of symbiotic mind-reading.

The creature merely made a guttural rumble in its throat, before turning back to his pile.

Yep, he was _so_ dead.

"So, what were you doing that required you to steal precious minutes of my slumber?"

"Er, I was, um-" he broke off when he realized that instead of approaching him again, she had sat down near the stream, the axe placed on her lap before she picked a stone up. Carefully adjusting her aim, she struck the axe's blade the way that he had taught her.

While it didn't escape him that he may have inevitably aided her in her eventual disposal of him, he was puzzled that she had yet to attack him. Did Toothless deter her? Probably, since cuddly Night Fury or not, he was still the unholy of offspring of lightning and death. But in that case, shouldn't she be fleeing from him? She would have considered the possibility of him coercing the dragon to slay her – not that he would. He couldn't, and he wouldn't. He, well, it just didn't feel right. Maybe that's what she was counting on; that his moral conscience would chew him up too deeply for him to actually kill her.

That and the fact that he kind of, well, wasn't very good at hiding his obvious crush on her. _Thank you for nothing, hormones._

Then, it occurred to him that maybe it was none of the above. "Um, wait, Astrid. Have you – er – did you just wake up?"

"Um, which part of 'precious minutes of slumber' didn't you catch?" she returned, snarky but still in good-humor, then let out a long yawn.

The wording of his next question was careful. "Did you, um, hear anything while you were sleeping?"

"You mean the two consecutive cannon shots?" His heart fell into his mouth, and he fought himself scraping his nails against the hardened scales that lined the dragon's being. Toothless didn't particularly mind, taking it as some form of miniature massage, smacking his lips together before snapping his jaws around another juicy mackerel. "Yeah, I heard them. I'm surprised you heard them too, though. I thought you were sound asleep."

After he absorbed her words fully, he found himself blinking in bewilderment. "Wait a moment. I was out here-" he gestured to creek bank "-fishing breakfast for Toothless when I heard the cannon shots."

It was Astrid's turn to look confused. "That's impossible. I heard you snoring away when I snuck out of the cave at near midnight. You were still doing that when I came back."

Now it made even less sense.

No, wait. Actually, it _did_ make sense. "You heard your shots at night?"

So she told him her moonlight – or rather, lack-of-moonlight-but-plenty-of-rain – surveillance of the region in proximity. Learning about Rapunzel's death sent a dreadful ache in his heart, and he found himself stroking the Night Fury absently at that point. When she asked if he was okay, he answered quietly, "It's nothing. It's just that-" he swallowed "-if we didn't win, I'd have wanted her to."

It was only after the words tumbled out that he noticed his error, but Astrid hadn't pointed it out, simply resuming her recount of what she had found. She showed him a compass she had found, pointing out the words scrawled on its back. The owner of the tool could have been one of the victims or killers, she couldn't tell, but she told him about following the direction of the arrow and how it ended with a dead end. Of course, she only knew it as a dead end, but from her description, he knew it wasn't. Creasing his forehead, he stared down at the compass, down at the blue-red arrow and found that the cogs in his mind had begun to rotate back into action, so much that he had completely forgotten about present threats.

But, of course, he eventually came back to reality. Chuckling a little, he shoved the compass into his pocket and promised to mull over it later, which he was actually going to do anyway. It was after she had asked him to explain why he now claimed to have been lolling by the stream during the cannon shots.

The answer to his earlier perplexity was now at the back of his head, but he decided to put out one last test. "The two shots I heard was just an hour ago." He bit the inside of cheek as waited for her response.

Astrid dropped her make-do whetstone, and almost dropped her axe too. Her eyes shrunk to slit while she tapped her chin, and he realized that she was calculating something, by the intense visage that she wore. Slowly, she stood up, the expression on her face unreadable. Then suddenly, she was running towards him, her axe still in her hands, and he winced, muttering the name of his reptilian friend as one last desperate plea for help. Receiving none, he dropped his shoulders in resignation, screwing his eyes shut as he prepared to meet his fate…

…and ended up feeling her bony arms wrap themselves around his neck. The axe just barely missed his head – a remarkable feat, considering how wildly she had done it. The conclusion he then arrived at was that she had opted to strangle him.

But then Hiccup heard her laugh. It wasn't a sadistic cackle, like one the District 4 boy had made before, or the dark snickers that he had heard from the District 1 girl. It was one full of joy, and full of hope. It was when she suddenly pulled away, blushing at her boldness but still grinning, he knew for sure that she didn't know.

In her mind, the death of four tributes meant in that their chances of winning had increased substantially. It meant that _they_ were close; close to going back home with the crown on _their_ brows, throwing kisses to the adoring crowds as _they_ made _their_ speeches, before going back to _their_ ordinary teenage lives. Or for him, it would be ordinary, but for her, it would be a massive status shift - from the penniless nobody to the noveau-rich. Maybe _they_ would part as unlikely friends, or maybe _they_ would become more than that. But the bottom line was that _they_ would get to live happily ever after.

It would have been the honest thing to do – to tell her that the presumed plural had actually reduced to a singular. But common sense was not honesty, and he was definitely uncomfortable with sharing such compromising knowledge when her axe was that near to his head.

He was glad that any cheery comment expected from him was interrupted by a displeased snarl from the Night Fury, though it did irk him that the dragon only chose to show aggression after the perceived threat on his life had been proven untrue. His and Astrid's eyes fell to the growling beast to discover that a few Terrible Terrors had landed near the hoard of fish. Almost protectively, Toothless wrapped his front limbs around the pile, his scaly countenance contorted into what appeared to be a frown. The Terrors made high-pitched chirps in response, bouncing up and down their hind legs in what seemed to be begging, so much like pouting puppies that Hiccup almost laughed. Toothless snapped his teeth at the tinier creatures, discouraging their attempts to snatch a mouthful for themselves. A bolder one had just managed to scoop up one and was about to scoot away with its prize when the ebony dragon spotted it. With a furious huff, Toothless seized the stolen goods back, swallowing it before sending a derisive sneer to the thief.

Watching the dragons' exchange made Astrid chuckle, but Hiccup shook his head disapprovingly, almost forgetting where they were at the moment. "Alright, Toothless, that's just mean. You've more than enough, you know."

The Night Fury made another sneer, this time sending it to the boy's way, lolling his tongue in defiance.

Hiccup raised a brow at him, just as the slighted dragon made a dissatisfied sound. The shrimp of a dragon let out a hiss, scraping its front claw against the dirt, parting its maw in preparation to fire. It never got to, however, because Toothless had fired a small ball of plasma straight into the creature's jaws. The Terrible Terror's eyes then went wide before it slumped backwards, making pained whines while staggering away. Toothless hung his mouth open, making what seemed to be a laugh.

"You're mean, you know that?" Hiccup chided the beast, to which the Night Fury rolled its eyes.

"It's not dead, is it?" Astrid's voice was sounded concerned, a feature from her he had yet to come to terms with. After all, he had seen so much her temper, her fire and her thirst for action, but never quite the caring side. But he knew it was there – he had seen when she had tended to his injuries. Yet it seemed to be something she wasn't too fond of showing. It was the way the District had taught her, he supposed.

The Terrible Terror was back on its feet soon enough, crawling away dejectedly, so there was nothing to worry about.

"It's fine, I guess," he answered, which earned a sigh of relief from his blonde companion. "Not much fireproof on the inside, I guess." He grabbed one of the smaller fishes he had caught recently from his fishing contraption and was about to toss it over, when he paused. He spun to Astrid, holding out the slimy object to her. "You wanna try feeding?"

The blonde started. "Me?"

He shrugged. "It's not that hard. And Toothless won't let him, or her, hurt you."

She wore a doubtful visage, but took him up all the same. Laying her axe down, she got to her knees slowly, holding the stinky meal towards the little dragon prancing on the grass. The small green creature eyeballed her suspiciously, its gaze flickering from her eyes to the offering in her hand. Small and cute, Terrible Terrors certainly were, but they were dangerous enough if provoked. Hiccup watched as her brows creased together, and her free hand curled into fist.

"You might want to relax," he whispered, crouching down beside her. "He's not going to trust you otherwise."

"Easy for you to say," she retorted gruffly, possibly to hide her embarrassment about her caginess. "You've done this before."

"Well, just try not to, um, look like someone's perpetually going to kill you?"

He had to admit that he deserved the glare that she gave him.

Inhaling deeply, Hiccup noted how she rolled back her shoulders, the way he had seen her do a dozen times before going in for the strike. But instead of grabbing her axe and mincing the beast into a senseless puddle of goo as she would have surely desired to, she forcibly relaxed herself, stretching her arm towards the beast without a trace of fear.

The creature blinked at her, teetering forward cautiously. Then with the startling amount of speed, it snatched the offering and slurped at once. Astrid had jumped when that happened, but dropped her shoulders and feigned calm, even when the green beast slid up towards her. To her surprise, and even a little to his, the dragon rubbed its spiny scalp against the back of her hand, purring without a trace of hostility.

The blonde's countenance transformed one of incredulity to amazement in mere seconds, as she raised that hand to pat the creature's head. However, the creature craned its neck up at the moment such that its snout nudged her palm. Pulling back, it yapped happily, and Hiccup couldn't help grinning when he saw her smile.

"This-" he could sense the reluctance in her voice, as if it was something she didn't want to say, yet something she couldn't hold in, "-this is pretty amazing." There were was a pause as she stroked the Terror on the top of its head, earning an approving chirp from the beast. "This is pretty amazing. He's amazing."

The night fury by the fish pile gave what sounded like an envious snort.

The girl laughed. "Alright, you're amazing too, Toothless."

The larger dragon harrumphed in satisfaction.

Carefully lowering himself beside, Hiccup felt bizarrely as if someone had plucked him from his world and dropped him in alternative universe. Because here he was, sitting side by side with his long time crush, with dragons that weren't going to eat them, and the sunlight reflecting cheerily off the creek. It was tranquil, and maybe even romantic, if it wasn't the hole in his leg didn't keep reminding him of the truth.

There was only going to be one victor, and the only thing keeping him alive was that she didn't know that.

"It's like they've been teaching it wrong all our lives." Her voice broke him from his reverie. She was still – dare he say it - playing with her newfound reptilian friend, feeding him another fish. "These guys can't be as bad as everyone's been making them out to be."

Some mental scoreboard that he didn't even know he possessed rung out in triumph. Outwardly, he tried not to sound completely excited about that _yes! He was__n't the only person who had ever felt__that way! He wasn't completely insane!_ "Well, um, y'know, they're still pretty scary. And they still breathe fire and fly and …yeah." _Annnddd…_his communication skills still sucked.

Fortunately, his companion didn't seem too bothered by it. "But they have emotions, and personalities. I mean, look at Toothless. Look at Sneaky."

Hiccup made a face. "You named the Terrible Terror 'Sneaky'?"

"Guy who named terrifying black dragon Toothless?"

"… You have a point. Carry on."

"It's like everything I've ever learnt about the Games is wrong. A lot of things-" she bit her lip, and he noticed the embittered edge in her tone "-didn't turn out the way I expected."

Hiccup shrugged "Well, I didn't expect to get reaped." He gestured at her. "Definitely didn't expect you to get reaped. Not that I'm against it or anything." He hurriedly added when he saw her questioning look. "And… I didn't expect to meet Toothless."

Just as he said that, he felt something knock against his back. Twisting himself about, Hiccup was greeted that with the slobber that the Night Fury affectionately lathered on his being.

"Thank you for the bath," he deadpanned, earning guffaws from the blonde. The unrepentant beast made a pleased croon, probably believing that he had indeed endowed a joyous gift onto his human friend. He then made a familiar gurgling sound at the back of his throat before regurgitating some half-digested fish before them.

Both teens immediately slid away from the offering, bearing faces of equal discomfort. Toothless' expectant gaze shifted between them, his maw parted in a gummy grin. Clearing his throat, Hiccup nodded queasily at the fish while addressing the blonde, "Um, breakfast?"

She punched his shoulder, and he had to admit that he deserved that too. Toothless thought it was hilarious, and expressed it by supplying his master with another disgusting lick. _("Urgh, Toothless!"_) Astrid had the gall to laugh at him, and earned a shower of saliva too, to which he had no qualms about poking fun about. Well, until she threatened to axe him, and then had to tell him that she was joking after he had turned pale. He tried to laugh it off, and repressed the disquiet building in his gut.

And then it came. The faint hum from the chips on the side of the little beasts necks. Caught up in the moment, Hiccup had forgotten all about those.

The Terrible Terrors in their company, Sneaky included, suddenly lifted their heads upwards, pupils dilating. Making frightened squawks, the beasts suddenly spread their wings and sped to the sky.

"Sneaky, wait! Where are you going?" Astrid was distressed of course. She had leapt to her feet, as if trying to reach for the sky bound reptiles. She was obviously quite taken with him, it seemed.

Hiccup, on the hand, was caught in his own whirlwind of confusion. During his time in the Summer Quarter, he had more or less pieced together that the microchips on the dragons programmed them to go crazy at night – that's why the midnight raids were always so freaky. But it was morning now, and even the once-relaxed obsidian reptile seemed to have tensed up. There was no reason for such a response, unless…

"They're starting the endgame."

The blonde spun to him. "What?"

"The endgame," he repeated, pushing himself off the ground, wincing. She proffered an arm to help him get back to his feet. "They're going to drive us together and get us to kill each other."

"Let them, then." There was no mistaking the steel in her tone as she scooped her axe up, resting its haft on her shoulder. "We're ready."

It was still a plural. Something in his conscience told him he should tell her, while fear smacked him on the forehead and told him not to be so foolish.

But what was the point of it? He didn't want to kill her. He also didn't want to her to be killed during the coming onslaught. Moreover, if she won, District 2 would still get it usual honors and rewards. He was the weaker link here. He was handicapped – he couldn't run, even less fight.

He had Toothless though, and Toothless would guard him with – he suspected – his life. But to what end? If he won, Toothless would still have to stay behind. Even with all the powers of a victor, he knew that it would be impossible to ask the Gamemakers to give him the Night Fury. A Muttation for pet? Such a thing had never been heard of. No, dragons were far too expensive investments to waste. Even if he lived, Toothless would stay, imprisoned by the electrical force fields for the rest of his life.

He needed an option three. His hand slipped into his pocket, clutching the mysterious compass.

"Hiccup, are you seeing this?"

He blinked, crashing back to earth, "Huh?"

"That! Over there!" The blonde was pointing at one of the trees ahead. "It's like there's something moving on that tree."

He followed her finger. "I don't see any-"

Their already tensed dragon friend suddenly growled in the direction that Astrid pointed at, flapping his wings open in what Hiccup had learnt to be a warning. Yet when he stared at the tree, he couldn't see anything. Well, except for maybe some strange green liquid leaking down the from one of the branches.

"Hiccup?"

Toothless let out another snarl, his eyes darting back and forth. White incisors filled the red gums. The truth only dawned on him when he noted how the green liquid met the grass with a fizzle and hiss.

It was acid. And where there was acid, there were –

"Changewings," he breathed. And judging by Toothless' behavior, they were everywhere.

Out of what seemed to be nowhere, a spray of sour-smelling liquid towards them. Fortunately, Toothless had been alert enough to sweep them away with his tail, knocking them over but out of harm's way at least.

"And we should leave," Hiccup remarked as he propped himself off the ground.

"Concurred," was Astrid's reply. Both teens staggered to their feet while the Night Fury launched a plasma blast at the tree. A feral howl of pain was heard and upon craning his neck back, Hiccup caught sight of a little of the crimson scales of the camouflaging dragon, before they shifted back to shades of green again.

"Know how to beat these guys?" Astrid asked, looping her arm over his shoulder, supporting him as they hustled forward with as much speed as they could manage. The Night Fury covered their backs, barking threats and firing at beasts they couldn't see.

Hiccup's brain went on backloop, trying to scrape whatever little information he could of the stealthy creatures. "They blend best in trees. We need open land if we're to see what we're fighting." A mental map began to unfold in his mind, marking out various possible places that they could go. The safest obviously was the cove, but that was inaccessible, now that he didn't have the band anymore.

Wait. Something in his brain clicked. Astrid had said that the compass had pointed towards the cove, didn't she? And it was the armband that opened its door…

There was a wild screech from what seemed to be nowhere as a scarlet reptile manifested before their eyes, snapping at them viciously. Dragging her injured companion protectively behind her, Astrid jumped forward, striking the beast with her axe, attacking with such ferocity that the beast retreated in fright. But an aggressive young girl and a Night Fury however were still no threat to invisible acid-spitting reptiles. And from the rustling leaves and shaking brambles, there were quite a number of them.

"Toothless," Hiccup hissed to his obsidian friend, his voice getting squeakier with each syllable, "-if my menial existence means something to you, do something."

The dragon seemed to make a snort that said, _'I am__not a pony.'_

"C'mon, bud," he pleaded. Astrid stood close to him, her eyes widening as they sought for the hidden predators. "Please. I promise lots of nice cod. Mountain loads. You like cod, don't you?

The dragon responded exactly the same way. _'No pony. No.'_

And suddenly, every single Changewing – all ten of them, hanging off tree, hiding in bushes – appeared in full scarlet glory. Even Astrid gasped at the sight.

"Oh, just great. Lovely," the boy muttered. He then yelled empathically to the black dragon, "TOOTHLESS!"

When the rush of red poured down on to them, Hiccup was sure that they would indeed die, no thanks to the stubbornness of a certain black dragon. But then he felt something yank him by the back of his shirt, tossing him up in the air, and before he knew, he was on rough, spiny back of the Night Fury. His companion suffered similar treatment, only that her landing behind him was clumsier. Her vice-like grip on his arm saved her from slipping off all together, thankfully, but before she could readjust her seating, they took off.

As the Night Fury swerved around and away from the dripping maws of their hunters, his heart was in his mouth and the only thing he could do as not to throw up was screw his eyes shut, dig his nails into the scales and pray to the unknown gods that somehow that would be enough to keep him from falling. The same, however, could not be said for his blonde companion, who was screaming out at the top of her lungs. When they broke out of the green cover, that's when it was enough.

For a second, and no more than it, Hiccup opened his eyes. Much of it was a blur, of course, just like it had been when Toothless had carried him off from the Feast, but being on the back of the dragon rather than in his claws felt different. In that brief moment, caught in the midriff of sky and ground, Hiccup felt the wind beating against his skin and heard the adrenaline pumping in his ear. With all his emotions teetering between ultimate fear and ultimate excitement, he suddenly had a taste - a fleeting, passing one – of freedom.

And it ended with Astrid cutting the circulation off one of his arms and deafening him with her cries of fright.

"Could you stop that?" he tried to sound polite as he shouted over her screaming, which obviously. He attempted to loosen his grip.

"How can you just sit there?" she screeched at him, tightening her grip on his arm, making him grimace. "If we fall, we die!"

"Well, good news! If we don't fall, we won't die. Right, bud?" He nudged the side of the dragon gently with his good leg.

Toothless merely grunted, and when the viridian oculars darted up to the boy, it managed to communicate how much he disliked the situation.

"Aww, c'mon, it's not that bad. You did save us."

Toothless harrumphed, seeming to say, _'Demeaning. Degrading. Pony-riding. Yuck-yuck.'_ It was followed by a disgruntled huff.

"Why are you so against this-_ow!_ Astrid!" That was when he suddenly received a smarting bruise on his shoulder. Well, at least he could feel his right arm again, and his eardrums stopped hurting.

He assumed it too soon though. "That's for being insensitive!" she screamed, before thumping him even harder on the back, making him groan. "And that's for everything else!"

"Oh, why can't you two enjoy the ride?" Hiccup complained, letting out a hiss as the combined aches of arm, back and leg starting biting into him again. Then he realized something. "Astrid, where's your axe?"

Her scare seemed to dissolve upon the question. There was silence before she answered, her voice suddenly small, "I must have dropped it when Toothless threw us on."

So here they were, in the middle of the sky, having escaped from one threat but not quite prepared for the next. Yet, Hiccup couldn't quite share Astrid's distress about losing her prime weapon. That meant that if she did find out about the rule change, she couldn't kill him, right?

_'She could still strangle you,'_ the unhelpful voice in his head told him. The bruise lining his arm told him that she certainly could.

As they zoomed over the densely-grown thicket, Hiccup found himself gawking at the aerial view of the Arena. Conceptually, he could guess what it looked like, but it was nothing like seeing it the way the Gamemakers did. The hollow, circular patch was where the Cornucopia stood, of course. To their left, he spotted the bright green forestry of pleasant birches and willows. The quarter on the right was covered in ice and snow, and across them was a quarter full of barren trees, laced in was seemed to be silt and mud.

Wait. That didn't seem right.

They were in the Summer Quarter, and if the Quarter to his left was Spring, then the one on his left should be Autumn, and the one across, Winter. To why the Winter Quarter seemed to have been turned to a swamp, he had no answers, but the reasons for it to be snowing in the Autumn Quarter could not be different from that of the Cornucopia.

"Smoke. Over there," he heard Astrid remark. Indeed, for some strange reason, it appeared dark fumes were indeed pouring out the Autumn Quarter, a smoldering contrast against the blankets of white. Furthermore, there were noises coming from the thick black smog, with occasional flares of red against it.

Hiccup bent himself forward, addressing the Night Fury, "Bud, could you get us a closer look?"

Toothless emitted a disapproving noise, but sped towards the requested direction nonetheless.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

There must be some invisible barrier rule that she didn't know about, because when she crossed the border between Quarters, the muttations suddenly gave up chase, scrambling off back to the barren forest.

That, or another tribute was near.

The redhead was exhausted. She had been running non-stop for the last – well, she didn't know actually know. It had felt like eternity. Both her arms hurt. Her left elbow was smarting at insane levels, and her frostbitten side was starting to ache. But she didn't let down her guard. She couldn't afford to.

So an arrow was fit into the string, and her shaking legs stepped forward. Her shoulders, screaming for rest, were locked tensed against her torso, forcing her breaths to be shallow and still.

The quarter that she was once so familiar with had transformed so much. Every inch of it was lined in ice. The leaves that crackled beneath her feet didn't just crackle – they cracked, splintering off like glass pieces. The tall, thick maples seemed to slouch under the weight of their new white burdens, and the snowflakes falling from above stung her cheeks.

A gust of wind struck her face, so immediately she darted behind one of the nearby trees for cover. Holding the bow in position, she searched for the source. There was no one on the ground, but when it came again, Merida noted how the brambles of the oaks shook, so she looked up.

In her sleep-deprived vision, the black blur was even blurrier still. She blinked, rubbing her eyes against her sleeves, before gazing up again. It was moving quickly, but there was no doubt. It was a dragon, it was black, and it appeared to have something on it. Passengers.

She chased the shadow, clutching her bow tighter. Fatigue was a hard master, but flame of determination still burned stronger still. She had to win. She would win.

The creature was too fast, however, and it wasn't before long that she had to admit defeat. She stumbled to a stop, crashing to her knees before she could stop herself. She was tired. With the damp seeping back into her mud-ridden pants, she was tempted to fall down against the snow and hope that the cold would take her.

But she couldn't. She had to carry on. She had to win.

Just as she pried herself off the ground, she heard the zooming sound, swelling and roaring as it came her way. It was coming back.

Lifting her bow up, she waited. And waited. And waited.

The second the blackness appeared in her vision, she released the projectile.

There was a scream, then another. She noted that one of the figure on the passengers tumbled off the ride, plummeting down. The flying muttation did a double back, zooming back to rescue the falling one, it seemed. She couldn't afford that. Once the passenger was rescued, they'd come after the source of the attack - her.

She yanked two more arrows out of the quiver, loading them quickly. The creature had slowed down when it did a turn, and she used that lag to fire her projectiles.

The ungodly howl that was unleashed made her want to curl up in a ball in terror. But she didn't, only watching as rider and ride were separated, and all three figures descending down to the forest below.

She waited for the cannon shots. None came.

She took off, heading towards the one that landed nearer. Another arrow was loaded.

* * *

It didn't take her long to come to. Every fiber of her being burned, and that was sufficient to convince her that she was still alive.

Astrid sat herself up, grimacing as she registered the gnashes on her back. She had acquired them upon her unannounced tumble from Toothless' back, and also after crashing through at least five branches. On the bright side, it did break her fall, and it's only fun if you got a scar out of it, right?

Fun. Well, that was one way of describing an arrow zipping past your face. It hadn't hit her, but it had given her such a shock that she had let go of Hiccup, and at that speed, she had been thrown off.

Hiccup. Toothless. Her brain snapped back into focus. Did their assailant get them too?

She shoved the snow off her body, haphazardly digging herself out. As Astrid straightened her knees, she caught a whiff of smoke. Scanning around her, she realized that it appeared that she had somehow landed in near origin of the fumes she had seen earlier on. Prying one of the pointy icicles she found attached to one of the trees, she found herself, against her better judgement, walking deeper into the smog.

It was thick, sooty stuff, making her cough as she trudged forward. But she could not bring herself to leave until her curiosity was sated. What could produce this much smoke? It couldn't be that a forest fire, especially in a forest covered with snow. The ground below her suddenly shook, and for a few second she staggered forwards and back, managing to stay on her feet only after she caught hold of a nearby ash-coated trunk.

The tremors eventually passed, so she continued forward. The icicle that had initially numbed her hand now started to melt, drips of it pattering down on her boots. The snow padding the ground had given way to the original leave-lorn cover, except with an additional layer of ash. Astrid gripped her weapon tightly to herself, starting to doubt the wisdom behind her actions. What were the chances ofHiccup or Toothless landing in the smog?

Well, quite likely actually. After all, it seemed that there was nothing but smoke and ash in the Autumn Quarter now.

Out of the grey rushed out a figure. Tall, elegant, it was hard to mistake her in her white tribute attire, even when it had been covered with a sprinkles of grey. The other tribute had been looking over her shoulder at the time of her appearance, as if she had been fleeing from something. When her face turned forward, blue locked into blue.

Astrid, having the faster reflexes of the two, moved first.

With a yell, she charged forward, holding out the pointed of the icicle to the District 12 tribute. She might have succeeded in her venture, if the other blonde hadn't broken loose from her shock.

In a swift motion, an icy palisade rose before Astrid, but instead of merely blocking her strike, ice vines stretched from it curled around her arms, crusting and hardening like cuffs of ice around. She yanked against, once, twice, before she managed to release still frozen arms from the wall. Raising one foot, she delivered a swift side kick, knocking her mutant opponent back several steps. Taking her moment slam her caged arms against a nearby trunk, freeing them, she sped towards the ice witch, only to find herself tripping over, falling flat. She hustled to pick herself up, crawling to her knees, only to find that that one of her ankles had a chain of ice wrapped around it. When her hands had latched onto it, prepared to force it open, she noted that there was some gleaming white pointing at her face. It was sharp too.

"Hands up."

It was a crystalline sword, crafted in a second, undoubtedly.

"It's against the rules," Astrid found herself saying. "You can't kill me like that."

"I've already done it once," the mutant replied coldly. "And forgive me if I couldn't care less about the rules of this disgusting game. Now, hands. Please."

Astrid removed her hands from the ankle chain, raising them as instructed. The other blonde needed only to be wave her free hand before a new set of ice cuffs engulfed the younger blonde's wrists again, this time stringing her to the ground. Though her expression was blank, watching the mutant work sent shivers down Astrid's spine. It was unnatural, observing how ice appeared out of nothingness, forming at the will the other girl. Yet, she also couldn't deny that she felt a measure of awe. There something terrifyingly wondrous about having such power in one's hands.

"How old are you?"

Astrid was taken aback, and her countenance plainly said so. "What kind of question's that?"

"I believe I asked you first," was the ice witch's reply.

There was a sullen pause, then – "Fourteen."

The girl seemed taken aback, and then Astrid realized that she probably didn't look fourteen in the eyes of someone from the backwater Districts. Then the mutant murmured so softly, almost like she speaking to herself, "You're even younger than Anna."

Vague images flashed through the District 2 girl's mind – ages ago, when she had sat in the allocated train cabin, when the noble volunteer, also from a backwater District, outshone every other tribute. "Your sister."

"When do they start training you?" There seemed to be an almost concerned note in the other's voice – that, and horror. "When you're children?"

Astrid didn't know how to answer that, because as far as she knew, she was still a child – legally, at least. In District 2, you were only an adult after eighteen, because that was the age you could finally take up arms and join the Peacekeeping ranks. Yet, what child knew the exact steps for breaking an opponent's neck?

Another tremor struck, and the ice mutant almost tripped, with the blade coming dangerously close to cutting her victim's neck. Astrid noticed that the droplets had started to roll down her frosty cuffs, and the white opaqueness faded into a more translucent shade. She began tug harder on them, only stopping when she found the sword near her face again.

There seemed to be a conflict in the ice witch's demeanor as she stared down at the younger girl. Much to Astrid's surprise, she withdrew the sword, saying, "You should run."

Astrid shook her head, unable to believe her ears.

"You don't want to be here when it comes," the District 12 tributes continued, not explaining any further.

"It?" The blonde prisoner was perplexed. "What's 'it'?"

With a morose tone, the other replied, "My doom. The consequence of my disobedience; my-" the slight self-mocking curl of the lip "-_rebellion_."

Crouching down, the blonde mutant met her eyes. "Your name is Astrid, correct?"

The girl in question nodded, still completely bewildered.

"Well, Astrid. I will not leave the Arena. They won't let me. But if you do,-" there was a drop in volume "-remember why I spared you. It isn't mercy. It isn't you that remind me of my sister in any way, for, honestly, you couldn't be more different. No." She shook her head, letting out a deep exhale before she continued, "It's because killing you is wrong. You are not the enemy."

Before the words could fully sink into Astrid's mind, the ice mutant had straightened herself up, shoved her sword down into the snow and fled.

The younger blonde tugged against her bonds. It was starting to feel slippery, which was good. She shook her arms up and down, imitating the hurricane in mind. The ice witch spared her. She had attacked the mutant at least three times, yet she spared her.

If she wasn't the enemy, then who was?

Just when she had managed to extract one arm from the wet, glassy casing, a familiar scream rang in the sky, and she paled.

* * *

"Get up." It was a harsh voice, not one that he was quite accustomed to, yet not completely unfamiliar.

Hiccup's head was spinning when he opened his eyes. He managed to make out the splatters of green and white as the leaves above, but what about the strange, shiny object pointing at his face.

"Get up, Two."

Then somehow, the fuzz cleared, and he could see to what the shiny surface belonged to.

"Carbon-core arrow," he murmured to himself.

"Get up, this instance, or I promise I will hurt you."

A face came into a picture. Dark, frizzled, short curls stuck around the face of girl – a tribute, whose name escaped him at that moment.

"On the count of three then. One, two-"

"Okay, okay, I'm getting up. I'm getting up." He lifted himself off the snow, groaning when he shifted his leg. The fall probably did quite a number on his injury. Perfect.

"On your feet. Foot. I don't care."

Now he remembered. She was the District 5 one – the girl with the score of eleven. She had longer hair before – at least, he though she did. She didn't like him much. She liked Astrid even less.

"I mean it, Two."

He squinted up at her. Her arms were trembling, so he wondered if she might be actually afraid to commit the deed.

"You won't get up? Fine." He noted that she shifted her aim. "Okay, on your feet now, or your pet mutt dies."

Mutt? His eyes widened. Toothless.

When the two arrows had come flying at them, the dragon had swerved about, guarding his rider from them. With his own body.

With dots in his vision clearing, Hiccup suddenly could see the dragon. A mixture of snow of broken branches were piled on top of the body of the Night Fury, pinning him down and preventing him from pouncing onto the redheaded archer that threatening his boy. Even when the beast tried to growl at the girl, it ended behind broken into pitiful whimpers. From the little of Toothless's body that he could see from under the rubble, he saw two arrows protruding from his side.

"Oh, no, no." Hiccup clambered on to his feet, almost forgetting about his own injured foot. "Toothless, keep calm, bud. I'll-"

"-do nothing if you want him to live," the girl finished for him, jabbing an arrow in his back.

Hiccup's steps towards the reptile paused, but he didn't want to stop. "Please, he needs me."

He could almost hear the cogs turning in the girl's mind. "If I let you help him, you'll set him on me – injured or not. I'm not stupid."

"I swear, I won't," Hiccup tried to protest.

"Forget it, Two."

"It's Hiccup."

"This isn't a get-to-know-you party," she snapped. This was something off about her, and for unknown reasons, her voice alone sent shivers down her spine. "I have no quarrel with your mutt, but if you don't start doin' as I say, I will." She shoved away from the dragon, towards another path. He hissed when he placed too much weight on his left, and that alone earned a frustrated scuffling from Toothless, which again ended in pained croon.

"Don't worry, bud," he told the dragon, "I'll be back."

"You won't," the District 5 tribute muttered.

She led him through the forestry, away from the dragon, saying next to nothing besides demanding him to move forward. Each time he tried to speak to her, she'd tell him that if he didn't shut up, she would run back and kill his mutt. He wouldn't be able to stop her after all. He could barely walk straight.

Clenching his teeth and hobbling forward, Hiccup forced himself to think over the options. He peered at branches around him, the snow in the ground. There were spare branches lying around, and he could probably pick up one and hit her with it. But then, the leg problem came in. He couldn't out run her.

_'Think, c'mon, think,'_ was all that rang in his mind when she finally told him to stop. Where they were didn't seem very remarkable at all, just a snow-ridden copse of trees. She had him turn to face her, all the while having an arrow pointed at his face. At the back of his mind, something nagged him. Why go through all the trouble to lead him away from Toothless? Why hadn't she just killed him yet?

"Scream."

He raised his brow at her. "Scream?"

She stepped forward toward him, such that the arrow almost touched his nose, repeating slowly, "Scream."

Then it occurred to him that perhaps this wasn't about him. He recalled the night before the Feast, when the girl had presented her conditions. She asked for the 'District 2 girl' very specifically.

He was bait.

His refusal was firm. "No."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "One of you has to die anyway. You're not doing yourself much favors here."

No, not if he could help it. He needed time – time to figure out option three. The connection between the cove, the bands, the compass. "No."

"I'm not afraid to use this, okay?" Was it just him, or there was a tone of desperation in her voice. "When this arrow passes your brain, you will die."

He didn't want to die. He also didn't want Astrid to die. He also didn't want Toothless to die. If he could, he would have it so that no one would ever have to die in here again. They were children, for goodness sake. These were the years where they supposed to cherish. Not to die. Not like this.

But he didn't have a choice. Toothless was injured - dying probably. He was injured, and probably going to die too. Maybe if he died in silence, maybe Astrid might escape the wrath of this crazed tribute. Without axe, and with this girl's score, he knew the blonde mightn't last too long in the fight.

So he told her again, his emerald eyes hardening, "No."

He watched how she let out a deep breath, drawing her bowstring back before saying, "Your choice then."

Hiccup shut his eyes, steeling himself for the moment to come. He only wished that he could bid Toothless one final farewell, and maybe also one to his father.

When he didn't feel the burning penetration through his skull, he opened his eyes. He found that the girl still had the arrow directed at his face, but there was hesitance in her expression. Then she dropped her arms.

For a tiniest nanosecond, Hiccup felt a surge of relief. She couldn't do it.

After that nanosecond, though, he realized that her arms were lowered, but not relaxed. Before he knew it, he felt a terrible burst of fire stabbing him right through the bandages that Astrid had so carefully wrapped for him.

He screamed.

* * *

**S/N:**

**And I thought that the last chapter was dark...well.**

**If you find what's happening with Pitch confusing, don't worry. It shall be explained...eventually.**

**To be perfectly honest, when I first drafted this, Toothless wasn't supposed to get hurt. I think I'm a terrible person.**

**Oh, I just want to clarify something. Jack will NOT, I repeat, he will NOT be revived by true love's kiss. While, yes, in the movie Frozen, such could thaw a frozen heart. But here's the problem - while Elsa does feel affection towards Jack, she can barely sort out her feelings as it is. I.e. she doesn't really love him (not that she couldn't ever, but that there wasn't enough time for it at this point. This is the Hunger Games after all.) Second problem, this is a sci-fi world. Elsa's powers come from a biological cause, and true love's kiss - phfff! - it isn't biological, or scientific. It's ridiculous! It could never work.**

**Right?**

**Up Next: 0.6667 Part 2. What's Elsa's doom? How far will Merida go? Will Hiro reach any of them in time? What are those freakin' bands for? **

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hi, guys. I'm technically still on hiatus, so I will, I repeat, I will only be back in December. My exams haven't ended by a long shot, but there's this little break here, so I decided to give you guys a little of this. This definitely not the longest chapter I have written, but it's still 12,000 words, and now my arms hurt.**

**I have just watched Pixar's newest film, **_**Inside Out**_**, and I was blown away. Really. It exceeded my expectations and I sometimes can't believe it's Disney because it's so not carbon-copy that I don't know what to put it in a my cerebral classification of Disney films. If you're an animation fan like me, or just a Pixar fan, or you just like good films, you have to check it out. After that, you'd be like me, dying for **_**Riley's First Date**_** to get out. (Funny, I did exactly the same thing for **_**Frozen Fever**_**.) **

**That said - wow! 27 reviews on last chapter! And ... at least half of them cursing me for killing Jack. Well… sorry? **

**Mailbox for Guest Reviewers:**

**BurningMoon: Um, I'm sorry. Ish. Not much, just ish. Yeah, join the line of people that hate for killing Jack. Oh, the tissue rack is next to the sledge hammers on the right. And sorry, but I actually like crumbs. In milkshakes, but yeah.**

**Guest (Jul 28): Happiness, sunshine, haha - yes, these words do not describe the Hunger Games. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Sort of. Whatever you call that sensation of pummeling yourself I suppose.**

**Guest (Jul 31): Sorry that I could only update now, but I've been busy, and will continue to be for a while. Hope this can tide you over the next one. Maybe. **

**Guest (Aug 3): Great news! You just waited a month! And now you have to wait...for two more before the next one.**

**Guest (Aug 6, who I strongly suspect is Maggietheawesome, but may not be): I hope your figurative hand is better no and wow! Did you just time travel? Cool. Oh, tissue rack is on right too. **

**internet1234: Eh, hehe, about the true love's kiss thing, see the S/N.**

**That's all for now folks. See y'all in December. Till then, it's full flung studying for me. If you do leave reviews in your account names, I will PM replies to you. For guest reviewers though, haha, just like it had been for the previous chapter, I'll reply you when I get back...And when you all have forgotten whatever you'd just reviewed. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **


	44. Chapter 42: 06667 Part 2

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 42: 0.6667 Part 2

* * *

**Here's a metal band recap first, since you've probably forgotten:**

**Hiro - 3**

**Ralph - 1**

**Elsa - 1 (Given to her by Jack)**

* * *

**A recap, since it's been so long ago:**

_The Games are down to six players: District 2's Astrid and Hiccup, District 3's Hiro, District 5's Merida, District 11's Ralph and District 12's Elsa. Hiro and Ralph are scrambling to keep the 'mission' from falling apart, while the others are doing pretty much the opposite. Elsa seems to have accepted her fiery fate, whatever that is. Hiccup and Astrid have been separated, Toothless injured, and our favorite redhead is going in for the win - at any cost._

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

It had been eventually agreed that they should split up. As Ralph had no idea how the compass worked and Hiro unfortunately had no way of teaching him to without giving himself away on screen – if an observant Gamemakers hadn't already noticed it - it had been decided that Hiro would look for Jack, and Ralph, the Snow Queen. Witch. Whatever nonsense name they came up with.

The location of the Snow Queen hadn't been hard to deduce, given how the Autumn Quarter had started snowing. By his compass, Hiro noted that the remaining blue arrow was moving, and it pointed to the Autumn Quarter too. So it was concluded that this must be the place to go.

Upon arrival to the quarter, they had parted ways. Ralph was surprisingly speedy for a boy of his size, disappearing into the frosted woods the second he had the go-ahead. Hiro had little doubts that the District 11 boy would find his target soon enough, though convincing the Queen to join them might be a little problematic since the plan could not be discussed on explicitly. But at least Ralph could knock her out, whereas he, the tech genius, would likely be transformed into an icicle.

He followed the remaining bluish-red arrow on his compass, though keeping a wary eye for other tributes on the run. From his deductions, there was probably at least one more career alive, and maybe that District 5 girl with the bow, and they might very well be the same Quarter as him. The remaining three bands jingling on his wrist reminded him that he was trying to save people here, not kill them. Still, that wouldn't stop them from running him through before he explained. Even if it was Hiccup as one of the remaining survivors, the District 2 boy might not show mercy this time.

Trekking carefully on the slippery ice, he had been surprised when the compass directed him to an area of soot-covered sleet. In a matter of fact, he was surprised that there was soot at all. Fumes gushed freely, rushing against the crimson leaves, turning them black. He pressed a free hand over his nose and mouth, his eyes narrowing as he strained to continue his trail.

Before the mission, he had been briefed about the endgame, the same way he had been briefed about Blindspot and the significance of the Muttation Manual. But, he hadn't been given the specifics about exactly it entailed or how he was supposed to use it to his advantage. That might very well throw a wrench in the works if he didn't reach everyone on time. Everyone who deserved it, that is.

But there was part of him that still hated this – hated having to choose between lives; drawing them out as if they were names in the reaping bowl. But it wasn't as if his choices had been completely randomized. Jack had shown him mercy once, so that warranted mercy in return. And the Snow Queen, well, from a pragmatic standpoint, she would be an … 'asset' for the opposition. If he could still choose a fifth, perhaps it would be either Hiccup or the District 5 girl, should they still be in the Game, but that option was gone and he couldn't dwell on it any longer.

That didn't mean he felt better about this, anyhow.

The deeper he treaded into the smoking forest, the more snow melted away. He could feel the change in the temperature – there were beads of sweat rolling down his chin. He wiped it quickly, then squinted at his compass again. It was almost fully red by now, but his target still not in sight. Again, the smoke covered everything.

He coughed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking it above his mouth. After a moment of self-debate, he called out, "Jack! Are you here?"

There was no answer, but he supposed it might have been because the District 10 boy didn't want to reveal himself.

"It's me, Hiro. You know, the Three guy?" Hiro tried again. Maybe there was another enemy in the fog, and he was just increasing the chances of killing himself. Or maybe somewhere Jack was lying unconscious, dehydrated and needing desperately to be rescued.

"Jack!" he shouted a little louder, running forward. The arrow had turned fully red now, pointing in front of him, but the haze was just blocking everything in sight.

There was an unexpected rumble beneath his feet, startling him such that he dropped the compass. Cursing, he bent over to retrieve it, only to find a white figure standing before him. Without a warning, Hiro found himself thrown back, pinned to a blackened trunk by an array of glassy icicles. He wriggled against them.

"Why are you looking for Jack?"

He stopped struggling, lifting his head up to meet the eyes of his assailant. It was then that he realized that she wasn't quite the pristine-white figure he had perceived her to be. As a matter of fact, her pale coat was dusted with black, and there were smears of ash across her face. She was panting, though he suspected the exertion stemmed from running rather than constructing the spikes. While it pleased him that he did manage to nail one of his targets (or perhaps, his target nailed him), there was one very obvious fact staring right at him.

"You're not Jack," he remarked, actually sounding perturbed as he said it.

"No, I'm not," she answered, a cautious edge in her voice. He noticed that the icicles receded a little – but only a little. "What do you want with him?"

His arms had been pinned, but he could still stretch his neck far out enough to peer at his compass. The red arrow behind the glass still pointed at her. A horrifying sense of deja vu washed over him, and he cursed himself for not considering that option in his deliberations. The silver band around her left wrist confirmed everything he needed to know.

"Jack's dead, isn't he?" It wasn't a question. Not really.

She drew herself back at his statement. Hiro watched her expression flicker between grief and guilt.

He continued slowly, "And he died by-"

"Ice," she completed it for him.

That revelation alone speared through all his plans like an arrow through water. When he had heard the revoking of the rule for two victors, he had assumed that one of the District 12 tributes had died, or both, since there were two shots that had preceded it. Since the Autumn Quarter had begun to snow when it obviously shouldn't have, he had assumed that the Snow Queen still lived, so that meant that her counterpart was dead. Since he had noticed movements of the last on his compass, he had assumed that Jack was still living. His first deduction was fortunately correct, but his second was terribly wrong.

That meant that besides Ralph, himself, and the Snow Queen, both District 2 tributes and the District 5 girl were alive.

That also meant that the Snow Queen was not going to be the victor, and she had no reason to hold back on killing him.

Both their heads turned sharply upon the sound of a ghastly scream.

* * *

**District 5**

"Why didn't she kill him?"

That was the question everyone in the crowd was asking. If people didn't know her face before, they certainly did know now. It was hard to forget that it was their District's tribute – no, their District's _heroine_ \- that turned the Careers' food pile into char and ash. That fight with the bear? Epic. The flowers for the District 11 girl? Never had there been a better insult for the Capitol. Her flowing red mane of curls was gone now, cropped by her own hand. She was coated head to toe with grime and an assortment of scars. She was injured in one arm. Yet she plowed on, battling fiercely with her bow and arrow in hand. She was Merida Dunbroch – _their_ Merida Dunbroch, and they were proud of her.

When she shot the District 2 tributes out of the sky, how they had cheered! There were children in the square chanting her name, and the adults did much the same. Their enthusiasm was so great to a point that the Peacekeepers began closing in, just in case there was any rebellious significance in this. When she had cornered the District 2 boy, they had hooted even louder. He was no match for her, and with an injured leg and his advantage indisposed, he was an easy kill. One down, four to go – it had to be the right action.

Then why didn't she do it? What was she waiting for?

Even when the District 2 boy sunk down to the grass, his blood splattered on the snow, screaming at the top of their lungs, they couldn't understand. In the mutterings that they passed around themselves, most suggested that she was waiting for the right moment. A small group suggested that she didn't have the guts to do it – a statement which was they were quickly forced to retract. In the crowd, only one knew the answer.

Bait.

That person made a mistake of uttering aloud, so those surrounding her caught wind of it, and soon it was passed around as easily as a tray of candies. _Bait!_ Of course. Sure enough, another of the giant panels in the square showed the District 2 girl breaking quickly out of her ice bonds – no one in District 5 really cared how she got in them in the first place. She had in her hand a sword that seemed to be made of ice. Again, nobody in District 5 really cared how to she came by it. It just meant that Merida's plan was working, and soon there would be two less tributes to worry about.

"Then why not kill him now?"

That was precisely the question to ask. Their District heroine had no further use for the worthless squealing git, so why not punch an arrow in his head? Someone had to do it eventually.

Again, only one in the crowd knew the answer, and this time she was careful not to speak. Wordlessly, she moved her way out of the horde. She could sense that the rowdiness of the group was creating concern amongst the Peacekeepers. Several more armed Whitecoats had joined the few that lining the square, and even though the visors hid any expressions they might bear, there was terseness in their posture.

They paid no particular mind to her leaving, for though watching was mandatory, citizens by no means were prevented from carrying on with their daily lives. Rather than give them breaks from their work, the Capitol plastered holographic devices all around the town, from shops to powerplants to loading bays. This made certain that even the most harried of workers had access to the gore and the violence Gamemakers so happily broadcasted.

As the wife of the mayor, Elinor wasn't expected to work as other denizens did, but that didn't mean that she didn't work at all. She had her own duties – many of which she had assigned to herself – and that included running a household, raising her children, and ensuring that her District didn't explode into all-out riots.

"Excuse me," Elinor asked a passing factory worker who had just exited a plant from a long shift, "have you seen my husband?"

She was directed to the canteen of another factory, which was as close to a pub as one might get in a District. These were often crowded with surly workers, worn and grouchy from their labour. Her eyes scanned the crowds and found to her disappointment that the worker must have been wrong. Her husband's red curly hair and brutish size gave him a very distinct appearance, so it could speedily surmised that he was not here.

With a huff of impatience, she intended to depart, but her eyes fell on the screen there, and just as it had in the square, her feet became glued to the ground.

It was a terrifying sort of an addiction in a way. In the first few days after Merida had entered the Games, she had stayed rooted before the screen, refusing to budge if only to see her daughter alive and kicking on screen. As time went by, she knew that she couldn't do that anymore – couldn't keep succumbing to the addiction. Though it plagued her thoughts night and day, she had a district to run, people to feed and a government to appease. She forcefully dragged Fergus from his screens and back to his working desk, and she sent the boys back to school. She knew that this was all part of the cruelty, that the bloodthirst on the screen being placed side by side with common work was meant to normalize it, to hammer into their heads that how cheap their lives were to the Capitol, but there was no choice other than to keep working. That meant that one had to accept the death, the brutality, and that her daughter was the participant, and even instigator, of such.

Rationally, Elinor understood that succumbing to the horror would be a win for the Capitol, but she still did it anyway. A little of her heart broke each time a tear streaked her daughter battle-worn face, but it was like a burning stab in the same heart each time Merida split blood in anger.

Her daughter was had always been hot-blooded; her father had always been so proud his 'warrior princess' – so bold, so brave. It gave her the drive to fight, which was clearly the advantage in the Games, but it also made her careless, leading to some foolish decisions. But the decision to shoot the District 2 boy in the leg was not done in a burst of anger, and that was the problem.

Not matter what her daughter might have thought, Elinor did know some things about her. The girl was impatient, sometimes rude, and many times arrogant, but she was seldom capable of spite.

And that's why Elinor managed to pull herself from the televisions at the town square. She hated watching it; watching how the Capitol had managed to drag her daughter down to sufficient depravity such that she would commit an act of malice.

Yes, _malice_. She couldn't even pretend that it was a strategic move, as so many in the crowd could.

But that wasn't the point. She needed to find Fergus. She needed to warn him that-

Merida was on screen again. The camera angled such that they captured her how her eyes roved over the forest. She paid very little attention to the boy huddled on the ground. His screams had died, but the effect had been achieved and that was all that mattered. Who cared if District 2 scum broke his leg again?

But the longer Elinor watched, the greater the anguish within her swelled. Yet at the same time, the longer she watched, the harder it was for her to turn away. She was like one of those weeping relatives witnessing the Peacekeeper whipping their father, or mother, or brother on the stocks – five lashes, no less. Obviously, it was agonizing sight, and the punished would often weep, bawl and tear at that teeth, yet these relatives just wouldn't go, even if all they could do was wring their hands uselessly. _'Why don't they just leave?'_ her daughter had asked her once. _'They can't do anything. Why don't they go?'_ And she had replied, _'Because they can't.'_

Even if she could do nothing, even if by giving in to her worries she was giving in to the Capitol, Elinor couldn't put it away and carry with life as usual. She couldn't stop staring at how Merida wiped the freshly splattered blood off her cheek, as if this was perfectly ordinary, and she couldn't stop watching how her own '_l'il lass_' drew back her bow, waiting for her target to enter her line of sight. It was as if the tribute she hunted was nothing more than one of the beasts she had hunted before.

The worse part was that Elinor knew why Merida waited. She knew why the District 2 boy was still alive, and it wasn't because Merida couldn't kill him. There was sufficient determination in her eyes, and Elinor didn't doubt that she could strike him down right now.

But Merida – this twisted, bruised version of her darling daughter that the Capitol had created – waited, and not just for District 2 girl.

She waited for an audience.

* * *

**District 2**

"Why isn't she killing him?"

Lunch hour at the barracks canteen was crowded and it wasn't just with trainees. Various citizens – mason workers, merchants and even children - hung about the shared eating area many had dubbed the 'Great Hall', though it was neither a hall nor particularly great.

Amongst the present company shuffling about, devouring their meals and watching the Games, there sat a team of Career trainees. One was a pudgy boy of considerable girth and mismatched short legs called Fishlegs, and it was he who had asked the question.

"Who cares? He's going to die eventually." Another member of this group was a blocky boy of great muscle, and perhaps a little too much ego. He was currently emptying his cup of mead – a strong drink that teenagers his age were not so supposed to consume. But then again, everyone's sights were fixed on the Games, and little cared if yet again another adolescent broke a little law. This was District 2, after all; law-enforcers were often allowed to bend some rules for their own kind.

"Snotlout, you do realize that he's your cousin," the stockier boy put in, clearly annoyed.

The other boy shrugged. "So? Doesn't change the fact my beautiful Viking princess is going to win." There was a dreamy look in his eyes, which earned an eye-roll from Fishlegs.

"I think Astrid would sooner die than let you call her that," the girl in their company disagreed snidely, counting the bills in her hand. She and her twin brother had been collecting bets since the reaping, and right now they were sitting on quite a hefty sum. At first, most of the bets were on Astrid because she was the Career and Hiccup was pretty useless. District 2 citizens were far too proud bet on tributes from other Districts. However, after the Feast with Hiccup's reveal of his advantage, the tide had been steadily turning towards the male tribute's favor, even with the injured leg. Of course, the District 5 girl had to mess things up, and now Hiccup sat at the bottom of the odds scoreboard. Still, it was all profit for the mercenary duo, so they didn't really care.

"Wan'na bet on that?" Tuffnut, the boy twin, asked her, scribbling the new odds on his notebook and comparing them to the ones on the side of the screen. It was strange to observe that the pair of them were so adept in handling bookmaking, even though they acted really dumb most of the time.

Wordlessly, his sister Ruffnut slid him a ten dollar bill, which he gleefully pocketed before penning this investment down. He did not notice however that she stole the bill back when his head was turned.

"But why isn't she killing him?" Fishlegs asked again, still scrutinizing the screen with much suspicion. Indeed, it seemed as it the District 5 girl had completely forgotten about the bleeding boy in the corner, merely readying herself for her other target. The District 2 boy was as pale as sheet, and there were tears streaking down his face. His calloused fingers groped against the icky red dripping down his shin, and he eyed his attacker with a mixture of bewilderment, fright and revulsion. Another part of the screen showed the small blonde girl dashing back into the snowy forest, gripping the ice sword that the District 12 girl had used against her earlier.

"Fifteen bucks that the Five girl kills him before Astrid arrives," Snotlout volunteered.

"Fifteen that the Five girl and Astrid kill each other, and Hiccup wins," Tuffnut answered. When the others stared at him, he said, "What? The Five girl has the advantage with a bow, and Astrid doesn't know there can be only one winner."

Before the money could change hands, a gruff voice interrupted them, "I heard that you're taking bets."

"Why, yes! You've come to the right people, Mister-" Ruffnut's cheery greeting was cut off abruptly when she realized who it was.

The other teenagers were slightly slower on uptake, but all of them cowed when they realized that the imposing figure of their mayor stood before them.

"Chief Stoick! I mean, Mr. Mayor, sir!" Fishlegs squeaked, letting slip the town's nickname without meaning to. But the 'Chief' had his attentions trained on the twins, his bushy brows furrowing together.

"Well?" It was almost a growl.

The twin took turns pushing each other to answer him, before finally Tuffnut grudgingly churned out the response. "We are – um – just conducting an economic activity, sir."

"For the entertainment of the populace," added Ruffnut with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Do you even know what 'populace' means?" Fishleg muttered, not really trying to lower his voice.

"Indeed," the Mayor murmured, ignoring the larger boy's input. "And what are the odds?'"

"Um." Tuffnut peered at his notebook. "Astrid, +3.5. Hiccup, er, -2.5."

Without hesitation, the Mayor dropped a small stack of bills in front of the twin, causing their jaws to drop open. He didn't even look at them, choosing to peer at the flickering screen again, and for a moment his imposing self did not look quite as imposing. "Put them on my boy."

"Yes, sir!" Both twins saluted him automatically. The 'Chief' no longer held his position in the Peacekeeping Corp., but it didn't keep people from acting as if he did.

Only after the chief departed from their table did the teenagers relax. Ruffnut took up the money and began counting it. "I kind of feel bad about him losing all this money."

"No, you don't," Snotlout retorted, to which Fishlegs nodded.

"Yeah, we don't." Tuffnut grinned as his sister and him knocked their heads together, causing both of them to collapse to the floor, groaning.

Because that was all the children of District 2 cared about. Money. Odds. Sport. It wasn't completely their fault. They had been taught to see the Games the way the Capitol did. Even if there was underlying disgust or discomfort, it was buried under careless talk and casual conversation. If it wasn't normal, they made it normal. Because that's all they knew how to do.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

This wasn't like the Feast.

In the Feast, there were so many distractions – fireworks, ice constructs, battle cries and clashing weapons. But after the scream, the only sound she heard was her boots smacking against the slushed snow.

There was barely any warning of attack before the first arrow came flying. Astrid had managed to duck it, awakening a dozen bruises down her back as she did. She sucked in a hasty breath, surveying the blinding snow for her attacker. Another arrow came flying past her head a second later, and another. Only her instincts and training allowed her to avoid each at every turn.

She was already at a disadvantage coming in from lower ground. Moreover, the ice sword she held wasn't exactly an ideal weapon. From its craft, it was obvious the ice witch had never held a real sword in her life. It was terribly unbalanced, and the handle was badly made. In the warmth of her palm, that blasted handle was starting to melt, and she had to grab the blade with both hands just to make sure that it didn't slip from her grasp. It was a terrible weapon, but without her axe, it was the only one available.

On the other hand, her enemy had a quiver full of arrows.

Astrid only managed to climb a few feet more before another arrow swooped down toward her. She struck swiftly to deflect it as she had done with her axe previously, but the imbalance of the weapon worked against her. The arrow still flew through, just flaying off the skin of her upper right arm. She hissed, but still continued her journey up.

Her attacker was now in sight, though still too far away for her to do anything about it. Yet even as Astrid observed the redheaded girl load another arrow, her eye fell onto the bloodied mess slumped in the snow instead.

"Hiccup!" The name left her lips before she could stop it, and relief flooded her being.

"Astrid!" It clearly pained him to even say anything in return. Toothless was nowhere in sight, and that in itself was worrying. "Forget it! Go!"

It was then that the blonde noticed the shaft an arrow sticking out of her district mate's leg – his already broken, injured leg. Her blood boiled. That was a low move, even by the other girl's standards.

Renewed in vigor, the Career charged, successfully swiping aside the following projectiles that came her way. Seeing that the odds of her defeating her opponent were falling, the redhead changed her tactics. Pulling out not one but three arrows, she fired. With an agility beyond her own, Astrid managed to deflect the first and second, but when the third hit the blade, the ice weapon shattered.

The splinter of the sword caused the blonde to drop it, stunned in a second of shock as she gazed at her bleeding hands, and the District 5 girl used that opening to her advantage. Astrid hardly had time to register Hiccup's warning cry, rolling herself behind a tree during the next spray, slamming her head against it trunk as she did.

Only after that brief burst adrenaline did the blonde note the searing sensation in her low right rib. An arrow had struck true, justly narrowly missing her stomach. It took all the self-control she could muster to keep herself from screaming as she slowly withdrew the crimson projectile. Her head was dizzy with agony, and her teeth were clenched so tight that she felt like they were breaking. The bloodied projectile in her hand was discarded on to the snow as soon as her task was done, and she was left to deal the sticky, warm scarlet liquid escaping her wound. Without Hiccup's instruction, she didn't know how to bandage it, so all she could do bundle up a bit of her jacket in her hand and use that to plug her wound.

She was supposed to get them home. Pay Hiccup back for saving her life so many years ago, and during the Feast too. But she failed. Astrid inhaled sharply, staring blearily in the sky, scrambling any trump card she could possibly pull on the redhead. She didn't have one, but maybe she could negotiate something. Buy Hiccup time, and possibly escape. Buy time for what to happen? Well, she didn't know exactly.

When Astrid limped away from the tree, back into the open, the District 5 girl already had her bow loaded, but this time it was pointing at Hiccup.

The career could feel an awful constriction in her chest, or was that because it was too painful to move her diaphragm. "Your fight's with me, not him."

"No." The redheaded snorted. "More like my fight's with you, and _hence_, with him."

"He never did anything to you," Astrid argued, her growl turning into a gasp as she clutched at her own wound. Her blue eyes met the green ones of her district mate, and even in his own pain, he still spared some worry for her. She noted that one his hands went to the arrow on his leg, and carefully, like he was trying to be silent, he broke it the shaft from the rest of the arrow. This action puzzled her, but she had more important things to worry about. So she turned her eyes back to her foe, saying, "If you had any honor, you'd fight me one on one, no weapons. Keep him out of it – he's barely on par with your fighting caliber."

Mixed sarcasm with flattery, and it wasn't completely uncalculated. From her previous fights with the redhead, Astrid knew she was stronger in hand-to-hand combat. With her wound in this state, it was unlikely her strength would be of any help. But one thing's for sure - she didn't stand a chance as long as the other girl held a long-range weapon.

Unfortunately, the District 5 girl was well aware of that. "Nice try, but no."

She pulled back her bowstring more determinedly, making Hiccup squirm as he tried to move away from her. He couldn't though, because his back was already against one of the trees and she still kept one eye on him.

"You don't deserve to be the victor," Astrid spat in return, masking her disappointment with contempt. "You lack the honor."

"Right, because, as you said and I quote,-" the mockery in the tone was unmistakable, "-'_victors are either born, or bred. I don't even meet the criteria.'_ In that case then your ideas of 'honor' don't apply to me. And after all,-" her lip curled into a sneer "- how 'honorable' can it be to strike down to an unarmed opponent?"

Suddenly, it became impossibly clear. Astrid's mind went into playback, and memories of the very first day – no, the very first fifteen minutes of the Games. There was a face – the blurred countenance that had fought her frenziedly and madly though she had twice his strength and skill. She had deemed him a worthy fight, because despite his disadvantages, he had dared to strike back. But she forgot that there was a spectator to that battle. A girl with long copper curls around her head, with her trembling fingers wrapped around an arrow she could not release. A girl who had disappeared into the Autumn Quarter, while her District mate died in her place.

A chill ran down the younger girl's spine.

"Call it poetic justice, or whatever. I'm just doing what you did to me."

It was like that hopeless night in the rain again – when she was starving and tired, just worse. It was as if she had plunged back to that era again. That time when she was weak, helpless and defenseless. Here she was, no weapon, badly wounded, and about to watch some wild-eyed District nut bent on revenge. Involuntarily, she took a step forward, wincing as she did, but the redhead only retaliated by drawing the arrow even further back.

"This will be last thing that you'll ever remember, Two." There was mirthless smile twisted on the redhead's lips. "Honestly, since I had to watch it three times, I'd say your version is a lot more merciful."

With that, the arrow was released, but the cry that followed wasn't Hiccup's.

* * *

**District 2**

The Hall had gone almost silent after the District 5 girl emitted a yelp of surprise. The arrow had flown, yes, but it had completely missed it target. The cause of this apparently was simpler than anyone could have thought, and it came in the form of Hiccup's hand grabbing onto the lower limb of the bow, yanking it upwards.

While the District 5 girl was still frazzled by the turn of events, Hiccup pulled on harder on the weapon. The girl's grip on her bow was too tight, however, so snapping out of her daze, she began wrestling with the boy for it. Though his leg was well out of commission, his arms weren't though. So, sharply yanking the girl towards him by grabbing her collar, the boy punched her in the eye, making her howl.

"Did you-"

"Whoa."

"I don't believe it."

"Useless is actually fighting back! Whoa!"

"Hiccup's fighting the Eleven-score girl!"

The twin bookmakers stared at each other quietly while the rest of the canteen went wild with this startling revelation. Who knew that the wimp could pack a fight?

"We need to start charging more for betting on him," the boy told his sister.

"Absolutely," she agreed, rewriting the numbers on their book.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

He actually punched someone. That's actually kind of cool.

To be honest, his fist really hurt right now, but it was still cool.

Of course, the District 5 girl didn't think it was cool, because she was fuming mad, and because he was now the one holding her bow.

Screaming incoherent threats, she launched a blow of her own between his eyes, and then he remembered why fighting sucked so much. Blood spurted from his nose, staining his shirt, but he didn't release his grip on the bow to wipe it off. She then proceeded to kick in the fractured leg, which really, really hurt, but he still didn't let go. As long as they fought this way, she couldn't load the bow, and that's what he really wanted.

Somehow in the middle of the scuffle, both of them ended on the snow, wrangling for the possession of the wooden weapon. She was stronger than him and she kept kicking against his wounded leg, which was really nasty. However, something in him – anger to how she wounded Toothless, and Astrid, and himself, perhaps – gave him the strength he needed to fend her off.

He noticed how she favored her right arm, so he jabbed against her left, making her yell in agony when he struck her elbow. With strength he didn't know he had, he flipped them over, pressing her down on the snow instead. Part of his brain that still remembered a little of his Career Training – that if he would yanked her skull at a certain angle, he could break her neck. Or if he pressed down on the skin between neck bones hard enough, she could die of suffocation. But even with the adrenaline clogging his brains, and the fear gripping his heart, he couldn't do it. It wasn't the lack of training, because he had seen enough people do it by videos of old games. It was because as his bloody hand reached for her throat, the look of terror in her eyes was just like looking into Toothless' eyes.

And the opportunity was over.

The District 5 girl kneed him in the gut, with the force sufficient to throw him back onto the snow. She proceeded to make a grab at the bow. Defiant and fearful all at once, Hiccup held it out of her of reach, using his good leg to kick her away. His other hand pressed against his stomach.

"Hiccup!" In the corner of his vision, he could see Astrid edging towards them, but the wound in her abdomen prevented her from getting near enough to help. He didn't know if she could even fight in that condition. As long as the District 5 girl couldn't use her bow, she was as weak as him. But the minute she got back on his feet, he was dead. His options were running out.

In a split second decision, he swung his elbow back, and prayed that his aim, which had always failed him before, did not fail him now.

"Astrid, catch!"

With all of his might, Hiccup threw the bow. It was the hardest he had tried throwing something. The weapon swiveled in the air, only stopping once Astrid's bloodstained fingers wrapped around it.

His hoot in victory was mixed with the redhead's screech of dismay.

* * *

**District 5**

"C'mon, lass. Take it back!"

"Don't let it get to ye! Show the snotface Careers!"

"Down with the Whitecoats!"

"C'mon, Merida!"

Elinor recognized one of the voices in the street ahead and she focused on that. Nevermind the nagging feeling. Nevermind how her lip trembled at her daughter's words. She had work to do.

"Fergus!"

Finally, there was the answer that she had been looking for all afternoon. "Elinor? Where've you been? Look what that silly bastard just did!" The large man shook his head. "Merida's gon'na rip his head off." His prediction wasn't too far off, because their daughter struck a blow at the District 2 boy again, causing him to gasp and splutter as more blood filled his nostrils. Some in the crowd 'that's right, show the little scoundrel!' and 'serves the filthy cretin right!'

"Really, Fergus, you shouldn't be-" Elinor checked herself. In any other circumstance, it would be wrong to condone any form of violence, but how many times had she hoped that some other child somewhere died, so that her daughter's own chances increased? Perhaps her differences with her husband were not as clear as she could have wished.

But what was happening with Merida wasn't the important part. It was how the crowds were reacting to it, and how the crowds reacted to it affected how the Peacekeepers reacted to it. And how the Peacekeepers reacted to it would not just affect what happened today, but the future of District 5 in Panem.

Yet again before she had a chance to speak again, people started crying out in fury, and all eyes returned to the television screen. Any practical plan of action Elinor had flew out of the window at the sight of the blonde Career snapping Merida's bow across her knee.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

Oh, it was an excellent decision. A brilliant decision. She had a score of eleven in her judging session, and that score was earned by a bow and arrow. Remove the bow from the equation, and her greatest advantage was lost.

In a matter of fact, all her advantage was lost. What was an archer without a bow?

"It's over," the District 2 boy breathed out. He was coughing, wiping the blood off his nose. She noted how he had winced when he shifted his leg. Part of the arrow was still embedded in it. She noted. "You can't win."

Merida knew that he was right, because even if she killed him now, his District mate could now kill her. And even if she defeated the Career, someone else in the Arena would beat her. She didn't have any other great skills. This was it.

Merida could do nothing as the blonde career flung the splintered weapon away. The other girl was heaving uneasily due to her the wound, a stagger in the short steps that she took towards them, but Merida had no doubt from the experience and training the other girl had sufficient ability to kill her, even in her current state. No matter what happened in the end, there was no escape from this – District 5 would have no victor.

She was supposed to be the hero. She was supposed to bring honor back to her District. She was supposed to change her fate. Not die like _this. _Everything was slipping like sand between her fingers, and she could do nothing about it.

No. _No._ There was something she could do.

Like they say - if you have to go out, go with a bang. If you can't leave as a hero, you leave as a martyr.

Before the blonde could take another step forward, Merida moved. After the destruction of her bow, the boy had let his guard down – very foolish of him, of course - which was why he barely had time to resist before she hooked her left around his neck. Splinters of pain still shot through her bones, bruises from the prior fight and lingering aches, but she bore it. It's not like she had much longer to live anyway.

Kicking his wounded leg to stop him from pulling away, her right hand removed an arrow from the quiver and pointed its tip at his chin. "Don't move."

The blonde froze at her tracks, tensed up and uncertain as of what to do. The brunette boy wriggled in her grasp, but his affliction was no longer as important as the glaring threat on his throat.

"You don't have to do this," Merida heard him hiss at her. "You don't have to do what they want you to do."

"Who said I don't want to do this?" she hissed back, pushing back any doubt in her own mind.

It was like he'd read her mind. "Because you wanted to be a hero. Heroes don't kill people like that."

"Not unless that person's the enemy," she shot back.

"Ask yourself," he persisted, despite the projectile so close to slitting his throat, "am I really the enemy?"

It was an excellent question, and privately Merida admitted that she was rattled. But she remembered the gunfire, the impermeable visors, and the sound of white boots marching down the roads.

"You have always been the enemy," she answered. Her vehemence shocked him, and for once he was dumbstruck.

Holding the boy tightly in position, Merida's gaze fell back to the blonde Career. The girl was clearly conflicted between throwing herself in the fight and holding herself back. It was puzzling that she still bothered – that she wouldn't just let go and let her District mate die. But if she wanted to stay for the spectacle, by all means.

"You might win, I don't honestly know," Merida said to the other girl, dripping with scorn. "But if you do, I hope you remember this, because I want go you to go back to your district and tell this. Tell them how you felt helpless, and stupid, and trapped right now." There was a crack in the voice. "Because that's how I feel in my district every day."

* * *

**District 11**

There were fresh bloodstains on the stocks. There were still bodies hanging from the gallows – displays meant to deter further rebellion. After the riot four days ago, people were still recovering from their injuries, and others from the griefs of losing loved-ones. Curfews had been imposed. Armed guards followed the harvesters out to the plantations, their piercing eyes quick to root out any more insurgents. Patrols went down every street, every corner. Barely an honest word could be spoken for fear of punishment – brutal, horrific, undignified punishment.

But no one could stop those words – cold, resolute, defiant – from blaring off the speakers.

_"It's always people like you – slaughtering the innocent, pushing your way around. Bullies, thieves, murderers.-"_

* * *

**District 10**

_"-You call yourselves Peacekeepers, but the types of 'peace' you guys keep are just in the favor of the Capitol.-"_

It wasn't supposed to blow up like this, but it did.

Right in front of the Justice Building, where many of the television screens had been set up, a pair of Peacekeepers dragged a child out through the building doors and threw her down on the street.

"I said get out of here!"

"I need to see him!" The girl pleaded. "Please let me, I just want to see the coffin."

_"-It's a violent peace. A cruel peace."-_

"Your brother's dead. Get lost!"

"I need to know for myself!"

_"-You abuse those who need that protection.-"_

The metallic baton was whipped out. "Move it, kid!"

"Please!"

The weapon came down so quickly, and it would have struck the little girl in the head if another arm did not halt its descent. The one who dared to do such a deed was an old man in his fifties, but his stocky built and the gleam in his eye showed that there was still much fight in him.

"It is not nice to hit children," he spoke in his strong accent, threat thinly-veiled.

_"-You strike down those who stand up for what's right.-"_

"You're disrupting my work, old coot," the Peacekeeper answered, releasing his grip on the baton to pull out his gun. "I really don't appreciate that."

Somehow it imploded from there. The gun was fired, and the throngs heard it. At first, it was just some people coming to help the bleeding old man, but then others joined in. Larger crowds bred more heated arguments, and suddenly the gun was wrested from the soldier's hand and he was being pummeled to the ground.

_"-You're all sadistic, sickened creatures-"_

Other soldiers joined the fray, and from there everything just went crazy. No one was really watching the Games anymore, because they were now caught in their own.

_"-and you enjoy being so. You practically treat it like an artform.-"_

The little girl, who had been there from the start but now forgotten, crouched down, covering her head in fright. If her brother were here, he would lead her away from this madness, take her to safety.

But he wasn't here anymore. The Capitol had taken him away.

* * *

**District 5**

As she predicted, a full scale riot began within three sentences of Merida's speech. She had seen the signs, and now it was too late to prevent it.

_"-It's always people like you who take such pride in carnage and gore and violence.-"_

Out on the streets, workers were battling soldiers with anything and everything they get their hands on – pots, pans, even chair. Somewhere in the middle of this overblown skirmish, her husband managed to lose himself – probably having joined the fight himself. She could hear cries of anger melded with screams of anguish.

"_People like you are all just hypocrites. Liars. Capital puppets."_

And she couldn't stop it any more than one could stop a keg of powder from exploding.

"Oh, Merida." Elinor could only shake her head, wringing her hands helplessly. "What have you done?"

* * *

**District 2**

No one in the Great Hall dared to say anything when the Mayor slowly rose to his feet. There was thunder in eyes and on his face, a scowl good enough to petrify the dead.

_"I hope he's watching this. Your mayor."_

The redheaded girl on the holographic screen glanced at the boy in her grip.

_"Your father."_

Stoick's fists tightened. Those who were unfortunate to be seated around him tried to subtly edge themselves away.

Of course, he wouldn't have known otherwise. His full attention was given to the screen, and his scowl only got darker each second.

_"He deserves to. To watch his only son die at the hand of some girl from the 'lowly districts'. After all the deaths he had caused."_

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

"And you?"

The redhead's eyes were locked with Astrid's own.

"I hope you remember this." Her tone was jeering, reeked with contempt. "There are no victors – only survivors. Everything that you are, everything that they taught you is a lie." Every word was full of hate.

She pressed the arrow tips against Hiccup jugular, a vermillion streak leaking out as a warning. "Panem Today."

He gasped, trying one last time to fight against him, but her hold was too strong. The District 5 girl didn't even look at him, continuing in a monotonous voice, "Panem Tomorrow."

She glared at Astrid, still clutching her bleeding wound, useless and floundering. The blonde knew how it worked. A quick slice from ear to ear, and then let the victim drown in their own blood. "Panem Forever."

In a last moment of desperation, Astrid thought that she might just throw herself at the redhead, even if her wounded stomach muscle protested. With the arrow in her hand, the other girl could still stab her, but it was that or nothing.

Just as the District 2 girl was a millisecond from launching herself to do probably the most ill-conceived thing she had ever done, another voice interrupted, "Wait, is that it?"

Astrid blinked in surprise. Apparently she wasn't having hallucinations, because she found that both the redhead's and Hiccup's attentions had been stolen a humongous figure standing just fifteen feet away.

It was that boy from District 11 – the one with the huge hands who went around announcing how he would wreck things. Astrid slowly twisted herself around, trying to assess how much of a threat he was, but that just served to make her body double up in pain instead.

The monstrously large boy didn't even glance at her. His eyes were fixed on the redheaded girl, and then Astrid realized that they probably knew each other.

The expression on the boy's face spelled out his horror. "You're just going to kill him like that?"

Astrid noted that the redhead swallowed before answering, "It's a demonstration."

"Of what? Of how you kill people weaker than you? Wow." He made clear his derision of the idea.

"His father's the mayor of the Peacekeepers!" Her voice was raised, but Astrid could see detect a slight waver. "They," she nodded fiercely at Hiccup, "- did this us. They are the enemy!"

"Do you blame the gun, or the shooter?"

A baffled expression crossed the older girl's face. "What?"

"Do you-" the District 11 boy said with almost exaggerated slowness, "-blame the gun, or the shooter?"

There was a strained lull, only broken by Hiccup's shallow breaths. Then, a biting response came, "But if there were no guns, there'd be no shooters."

Renewed with purpose, the redhead poised her weapon over the already wet flesh.

Then the boy said, "Vanellope would be disappointed."

Astrid had no idea who the person who mentioned – what kind of name was Vanellope? – but it seemed that the redheaded did, because the other girl froze up, and she looked almost guilty. Her eyes were downcast.

"She called you a hero – that's something she doesn't- didn't do often," the District 11 boy went on, taking a few careful strides forward that made Astrid stagger a few steps back.

The redheaded girl was trembling. Was that a tear in her eye?

"For the kid, Five. Don't act like the people you'd want to fight against."

There was a terse silence as the boy from District 11 stared down the District 5 tribute. Astrid could help but feel that the threat that the Five tribute was somehow crumbled into a vulnerable little girl.

Astrid didn't even know that she was holding her breath until the redheaded girl finally threw down the arrow, letting Hiccup go. The scrawny boy scrambled away quickly from his captor this time, pushing himself off the snow and hobbling towards his District counterpart. Astrid was eager to meet him halfway, limping towards him, gripping his elbow to steady him.

"Are you okay?" Both them asked each other simultaneously. Then again, at the same time - "No, really, are you okay?"

Astrid could hear the District 5 girl muttering something disparaging at that, but she was far too grateful to care for now. To Hiccup, she questioned, "Your leg?"

"It's fine." The pale demeanor he held told her that he was lying, but she didn't want to probe into it in front of the other tributes. "Your ribs?"

She glanced down at the crimson stained jacket, pulling the cloth away to see the wound. Hiccup winced at the sight, but bleeding had slowed, thankfully. But it still hurt. "I can work with it."

Out of habit, Astrid punched him in the shoulder. Before he could even ask for an explanation, she had already wrapped him in a fierce embrace – too fierce, her burning ribs told her. She had been so close to losing the boy with the bread. Too close.

Yet there was something that didn't make sense.

"Why did he do that?" she whispered to him, soft enough such that the other two tributes would not hear it. The District 5 girl was back on her feet now, and exchanging halting conversation with the larger boy. Both of them moved with a strange mixture of familiarity and awkwardness, like those who knew one another through mutual friendships rather than genuine acquaintance. "What's in it for him?"

Hiccup went quiet for a moment, so quiet that she could almost hear the cogs clicking in his head. "I have a theory on that, though there are a few gaps."

"Do you think it's a trap?" she put in worriedly. That had been what bothered her the most. Tributes don't go around stopping other tributes from killing each other. As far she could see, there would be no advantage to the District 11 boy, and she hated it when she couldn't make sense of things. It made it unpredictable.

"No, I don't think so." Hiccup's answer surprised her. "I actually think that he might-" he hesitated, before pulling away. He was worried about something, but before she could inquire on it, he asked, holding her scrapped hands as he did, "Astrid, do you trust me?"

Bemused, yet not completely surprised, she replied, "To protect yourself from other scary tributes? No. You really suck that." Nothing how he rolled his eyes, she changed the answer. "Fine. I do trust you, though I occasionally think it's misplaced. Why?"

"Okay, what I'm about to do is going to seem really weird," his eyes shifted furtively to the two other conversing tributes, "-but I think it's the best way to save us all. However, it requires you not maim everyone we meet." Astrid wasn't all that convinced, and her face showed it, so he put in, "I'll explain at the end of it. I promise."

She couldn't pretend that she had any idea of what went through his mind, nor could she pretend that she wasn't worried that this plan of his may be just pure crazy. But he was the smarter of them both, and at this point, crazy was as good as it gets.

So she nodded. Hiccup sucked in a breath, before spinning around – or rather, hopping cautiously on one foot, so that he faced the other two tributes. With forced casualness, he greeted them, "Um, hey guys."

The two tributes ceased their conversation, alarmed expressions painted on their countenance. The Five girl looked like she was wanted to pull another arrow and plunge it into his heart. Astrid hobbled forward, prepared to defend even if she was in little shape to do so.

Hiccup however, continued, unperturbed, "I'll like to propose a truce between us."

_A what?_

Forget what she said about Hiccup being crazy. This was a pure, unholy level of _insanity_! There were only six players left! Nobody did alliances at _six_ players!

Astrid kept the screaming in her head, adopting a perfectly neutral visages. The faces of the other two tributes did tell her that they felt much the same way though.

Hiccup, amazingly, just went on, "Oh, and yeah, sorry Eleven, but I didn't catch your name."

"Ralph," the brute-sized boy answered shortly, apprehensive.

"Right, Ralph. I need to speak to Hiro. I have something of his."

The District 2 boy dug his hand into his pocket, removing a small object. He held it out for the other boy to see.

It was the compass with the blue-and-red arrow.

* * *

**S/N:**

**The bit which Elinor talk about how people 'just won't leave' whilst watching their loved ones suffer is borrowed from THG books. **

**Originally, I didn't want to write in how Merida's words would affected the Districts, because it'd take up more space and it might disrupt the fight flow. A lot of people wanted to see how Merida and Hiccup's side responded to their actions, so this is the little that I can give. **

**Hiccup fighting Merida was actually a last minute addition too, because I figured that he was unlikely to just sit down and get threatened anymore. Initially, it was supposed to Hiccup who talked Merida out of killing him. But I felt Ralph, having had a prior connection to Merida before would have been a better choice after all, and it was a better place to bring up Vanellope again.**

**Oh, don't remember understand what happened in District 11? See Chapter 31. Don't understand the District 10? See Chapter 40. The little girl's identity should be obvious, but I'm not sure if anyone would realize who the old man who got shot is.**

**Oh, Astrid is still unaware that there can only be one winner.**

**Up Next: The Six meet. Toothless Returns. The Origin of the Soot and Fire would be revealed (though I'm sure it's pretty obvious.) The purpose of the bands still may or may not be provided.**

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hello, folks! I'm back! Exams are over! The bad news is that I'll be away from mid-december to Early Jan, which means I won't be able to update then. Hopefully I can finish this story before then but...with each chapter I write, I get doubtful. The Endgame arch is probably going to stretch for across another 2 chapters, and the epilogue could be 2-3 chapters. Cross your fingers guys.**

**Yay! 150 follows and 100 favourites! I have no idea why I'm celebrating this other than the pretty numbers.**

**I watched Mockingjay Part 2. Not perfect, but I thought it was good enough as an end to the whole series. I'm glad I did watch it. **

**Mailbox for Guests:**

**Yas: Glad you enjoyed it and thank you for your well wishes! I couldn't reply you back then, but just know that I appreciated them on the date that you sent it.**

**Maggietheawesome: I guess I didn't focus much on Ralph earlier on, so any grief he had on Vanellope is likely to have been dealt with before the Feast. Nice theory of how everything could be solved by Rapunzel's hair, but there's something I've always asked myself - if Rap's dead, would the hair even work? For your analysis on Merida's attitude to relationships, I think Merida's not actively looking for a love life when she's 16, but when she's older, she might not be against it. Her opposition to marriage was really how it represented her loss of freedom, especially in the olden days when women were subject to men etc. So if a fic is done in a modern context, or when Merida is older, Merida looking for love is not completely out of character - as long as it doesn't impose on her own freedoms. Besides that, I can say almost certainly that Merida is unlikely to have any romance in this story. Even the Hiccstrid in this story is largely like how Katniss felt towards Peeta in the first book (vice versa does apply). They do care strongly about each other, but at this point it's not really romantic yet. **

**Guest (Oct 26): Um, sorry? And sore arms are the least of my problems. I am a student, after all.**

**Awesomness: Thank you.**

**That's all for now folks. I'll try to get the next chapter up by the next weekend. Till then-**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions**


	45. Chapter 43: 06667 Part 3

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 43: 0.6667 Part 3

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

If you took an aerial shot of the Autumn Quarter, you would be greeted with an odd sight. One end of it was coated in layers of blinding white snow, while the other was fuming with a central red flame burning within. The sootier end was advancing steadily on the snowdrifts, enveloping it in the greedy fog. That was one big drawbacks of this particular version of the endgame: too much smoke. Photographic technology in the Capitol was highly advanced, but it couldn't overcome thick fogs, or even extreme temperatures.

Freezing and frying the people he intended to save were both terrible ideas, but Hiro reckoned that the former was slightly better.

Elsa was somewhat skeptical about his explanation – which had to be very, very short due to the depleting battery of the micro-EMP device attached to his control band. Nonetheless, with nothing to lose, she decided to free and join him on his quest. It was a good thing that she freed him when she did, because after that both of them heard a bone-chilling roar that shook the ground and pierced his ears.

And finally, Hiro caught sight of the 'Endgame'.

They ran, jumping out of fire's way and the crashing of the wood on soot. It was fortunate that the beast that marched their way was a large, heavy creature – speed was obviously not its forte, and that bought them time. Of course, its ability to spray volleys of fire through its maw made it clear that it didn't need speed.

"I don't suppose you know a way to circumvent this," the Snow Queen asked him as they narrowing missed being hammered by yet another tumbling trunk.

Hiro didn't. The Endgame was meant to be a distraction for the mission, but at this point he began to wonder if this was at all an insider to the Games. In the distance, the roars of the Endgame creature echoed, and Hiro knew that sooner or later it would reach them. It was slow, but with feet that big, it wouldn't matter.

"What do we do?" Elsa asked, the shaking in her voice betraying how unnerved she really was.

Before Hiro could answer, both of them heard the crunching of ice underneath feet. Simultaneously, they spun around. Ice weapons had appeared in the Ice Witch's, and without such armaments of his own, Hiro clenched his fists and raised them to protect his chest.

If you took an aerial shot of the Autumn Quarter, you would be greeted with an odd sight. One end of it was coated in layers of blinding white snow, while the other was fuming with a central red flame burning within. However, if you took a good look down on the dirt area and did a close up of the ground – if you could get past the fog, that is - you would see the strangest sight of all.

Six tributes, standing in a circle and reeking hostility, yet not one struck down the other.

* * *

It should be admitted that attacking the other tributes was extremely tempting, and Astrid would have done so already if she didn't have a wound to the abdomen.

She glared at the redhead girl standing across the circle. The other girl's hard gaze met hers. There was a growing bruise over her right eye, where Hiccup had punched her, but between the two of them, it was clear Astrid was definitely the worse for wear. The large District 11 boy stood in between both of them, acting in a way as a barrier. Astrid could only wipe the sweat off her cheek and stare on in the angry silence.

Privately, she was terrified. Hiccup said that he had a plan, and somehow he had managed to use the compass she had found earlier as a key for negotiation. The boy from eleven had recognized it, and apparently all along the arrow was pointing at Hiro. Why anyone would want to find the tech geek other than to kill him, Astrid didn't know, but she was starting to feel that Hiccup did.

But he wouldn't tell her, asking her only to trust him. After they had run into the District 3 boy and the Ice Witch back to the 'fire-side' – that's what she internally dubbed the burning hot, soot-covered end of the Autumn Quarter - Hiccup insisted on the having a private discussion with the former. Both small, wiry boys had dragged themselves - or in Hiccup's case, _hopped_ himself - away from the group, and the other four could on gaze on from the sidelines as the boys began an extensive exchange.

The blonde narrowed her eyes at Hiro. She didn't forget what he had done. Hiccup's limp, which had become increasingly noticeable, had a cause, and it all began at the feast in a battle between the two boys. For all Astrid knew, it was probably beyond repair, thanks to the cursed aim of the District 5 girl. She knew from Hiccup that Toothless was lying in the snow somewhere, bleeding and possibly dying. The blonde clenched her fist. Yes, if given the chance, Astrid would break that bow over and over again, just to see the horror stretched across the bold girl's face.

The redhead seemed wary of her company, but it didn't seem as if she would risk attacking them. She held the broken pieces of her bow close to her heart, having retrieved them from the snowdrift earlier. There appeared to words carved onto the wooden weapon, which was possibly why the girl still kept it, despite the lack of practical value.

Her feelings to the other two tributes however were very mixed. The Ice Witch had spared her life, though she had didn't have any reason to do so – besides a vague mention of how she wasn't 'the enemy'. She was however still a mutant, and Astrid could not bring herself to trust her. On the other hand, the Career was much more comfortable by the side of the District 11 boy. He had saved Hiccup's life, though it was probably not for Hiccup himself. When Astrid had haltingly asked him why, he just answered, "Don't you get tired?"

_Tiredness._ It was such an odd notion. She had always been on the move – practicing, training, making sure that her every second was spent perfecting her axe swings. But it wasn't the physical weariness that he was talking about. From the haggard form of the District 5 girl to the red-rimmed eyes of the Ice Witch, she realized that they were tired of all this – the games, the death, the dragging battle to keep their very lives.

It was the ground that shook first. The District 11 boy grabbed a nearby tree trunk, managing to steady his steps. The Ice Witch kept her feet apart and held her stance, as if she had expected such a happening. The District 5 girl fell back in her shock. Astrid might have laughed at that if she didn't collapse herself. The fierce conversation between the two boys halted as they both tumbled over, their knees hitting the dirt. Seeing the pain contorted on her District mate's face, Astrid was quick to shoot back to her feet and clamber over to where he was.

"You alright?" she asked him at once, ignoring Hiro in favor of helping Hiccup to his feet. The grimace he bore told her enough.

He didn't answer her though, eyeing the other boy instead. "Do we have an accord?"

Hiro didn't look happy. "Do I have a choice?"

For someone she was used to being the weaker one, Astrid felt as her District mate had become larger, scarier, just by the way he knit his brows together. "It's that or go down as Capitol puppets." Seeing at that the other boy was still unconvinced, Hiccup added in a low voice, "I'm not the enemy, Hiro."

The dark-haired boy appeared displeased, but he gave in. "Fine. We'll do it your way." He ran a finger up one of his silver bands. "What do you need?"

A panicked shout from the District 11 boy interrupted them both, and when Astrid looked up, she saw the branches above her blazing with red fire. There were yells of surprise and horror as the black fog cleared momentarily, allowing them to see the bringer of wreckage, fumes swirling about its like fleas to a carcass.

It was a muttation, yet Astrid had never seen the likes of this in all the old Hunger Games videos. By the rough scales and thorns lining its skin and the reptilian eyes, she could guess that it was some kind of dragon, but way, _way_ bigger. It was almost as large as the Justice Building back home, with a head the size of the train carriage. It let out a roar, with a mixture of agony and fury, as if being thrown into battle against its will. As it drew closer, Astrid could see for herself that it had three of eyes lining each sides of its head. Out of nostrils billowed noxious green fumes, and when it parted its mouth, she could see the yellowed fangs lining the upper and lower jaws. At the back of its throat, a glowing ball of light lit up.

And it was directed right at them.

"Elsa!" was the last thing that Astrid heard from the District 3 boy, before a wave fire washed over them all.

* * *

She could almost taste it – the ash, the burn, the gurgling flames sweeping around her. She could imagine the smell of sizzling flesh and barbecued bone.

But when she had opened her eyes, there was neither.

Merida crawled slowly back up to her feet, unwrapping her arms around her body, confused. Then she realized that there was some kind of ice barrier surrounding her and the group of tributes - a crystalline dome. The Ice Witch stood at the centre of it, her arms raised. White sparks flew continuously from her hand and the mutant groaned, only stopping once the constructed walls were thick enough.

Disbelief was all Merida could feel. Why would she do that?

Then the redhead's keen eyes caught sight of the silver object twirled around the ice mutant's left hand just as she lowered her arms, and her incredulity just increased tenfold.

She had been seeing those right from the beginning; first on the District 3 boy, then on three of her unwanted allies prior to the Feast. And out of that team, Merida knew that the Ice Witch had not had the band before.

With the fiery attack almost forgotten, Merida found herself examining the wrists of every tribute. The District 2 boy no longer had his band, and his companion still did not. But Ralph now had one squeezed uncomfortable around his thick wrist, as did the District 3 boy. Squinting harder, Merida realized that the latter had not one band, but _three. _She had been so sure that it was an alliance token of some kind, but what was the point of alliances this late in the game? The bands definitely indicated something else.

"I can't hold it off indefinitely, Hiro." the Ice Witch told the District 3 boy. "If you want to do something, I suggest we start."

In the periphery of her vision, Merida observed the wordless exchange between the Three boy and the Two boy. Her suspicions were heightened.

"Well?" Ralph asked, slightly impatient. His gaze also rested on Hiro, which led Merida to scruntinize this boy harder than ever. Who exactly was this boy? What were the bands for? What was going to happen?

"We're going to fight the Red Death," Hiccup answered, seeing that the other boy didn't want to say anything.

"Red Death?" Ralph repeated with a mixture of alarm and bewilderment. **"**You mean _'Ginormous-Scary-Spikey-Flame-throwing-monster-that-wants-to-eat-us'_?"

"Considering the current options of names, I guess that 'Red Death' is much easier to remember," muttered the Ice Witch almost humorously, though no one smiled. "So, what's the plan?"

"Hold on a second," Merida interrupted before the District 3 boy could answer. Slowly, cautiously, she inquired, "Why should we even face the 'Red Death' at all? Together?"

She felt no need to elaborate further, because her questions were obvious enough. Why fight together when they were all going to kill each other anyway? There was something very odd about this entire set-up. Everyone was a little too obliging, too trusting.

Everyone but the Career girl.

The younger blonde bore an uneasy mien, like she wanted to bolt off somewhere else, yet remained unwilling to leave her District mate behind. She seemed as if she wanted to interrupt this 'plan' herself, but was well aware that as a Career, her opinion may not be taken well. Her male counterpart, on the other hand, was remarkable composed, his face grim yet not lacking purpose. He knew exactly what was going on.

"That thing is a class ten dragon," he replied. There was a hint of fear in his eyes, related to his injury more than anything, Merida suspected. "In the first place, Gamemakers can barely control dragons as it. They are the most intelligent type of mutts ever invented, capable of counteracting and ignoring controls. The big thing you see out there?" He pointed at the ceiling of the dome, where furious roars were heard. Light trickles began to run down the ceiling. "It's takes the top in the whole hierarchy. The Gamemakers took a huge risk in releasing it, because they can't control it – only guide it, leave it trails, but complete control? No. That dragon could kill all six of us without leaving a victor, and the Gamemakers wouldn't be able stop it. In a way, it's a worse threat than any five of us combined against each other."

"This wasn't in the Muttation Manual," Hiro said, clearly astounded by the explanation and yet oddly enough quite believing.

"It's not," the District 2 boy confirmed. "I learnt this from listening to the conversations between the Peacekeepers in charge of killing Mutts in the wild. It was one of theories they brought up – an Alpha dragon of some kind that gave other dragons the ability to avoid human commands. "

Merida had the strangest notion swirling inside her head. Too much silent exchanges. Too much unspoken words. Logically, she shouldn't trust them, but in each of them she could detect something strange.

Desperation and _hope_.

"So we should run from this creature then. If Peacekeepers can't fight it off, we surely can't," was the Ice Witch's conclusion. There was a muffled growl coming from the exterior of the ice dome, and that made the mutant flinch.

"Running wouldn't do anything but delay the inevitable, and we know what Gamemakers do with delays," answered Hiro grimly. Those were unspoken words that Merida did understand. Even if by a miracle some of them managed to survive the onslaught of the 'Red Death', the Gamemakers would release another unspeakable horror – bears, wasps, bats, anything to cut the numbers down to one.

But maybe they didn't need to play it the way the Gamemakers wanted.

She remembered a conversation with her mother, a long time ago when the two of them still had enough in common to speak about. The Games could have been designed to be a straightforward execution of twenty-four randomly-chosen children of fear was the mere end goal of the Games. But precisely, fear alone was not the sole aim. _Hope_ was too.

Too much hope was dangerous, but a little hope was always good. A little hope was enough to keep people motivated, functional, _submissive_. A little hope kept people glued to the screens, so that the Capitol could tear a little of their humanity, piece by piece, to the barest of themselves as they prayed for their tributes at the cost of other lives. Having victors kept the Districts divided. Having victors made districts easier to control.

Remove the victor, however…

"So we're probably all going to die either way." The dark words of the Ice Witch didn't sound very surprised. She must have been quite certain about her own end already.

"We could die by having our skins fried off, or our bodies ripped to pieces by other 'goodies' the Gamemakers have for us," the District 3 boy listed quite nonchalantly. Then a hardened look appeared on his face. "_Or_ we can take the Games down with us."

Observing the perplexed expressions of those around him, Hiro explained "The Gamemakers need a victor, so very simple. We don't give them one. More than that, we take down the Red Death with us. With their prized killing machine destroyed by a bunch of kids and no victor, it'd be a double-whammy on the Capitol."

"You want us to commit suicide?" For the first time, the Career girl voiced her own opinion, and she was unmistakably unhappy. Her hands were balled into fists and she seemed as if she would have liked to sock Hiro in the face. Of course, her District mate halted her moves, reminding her of her wound. Still, she glared at the other boy, daring him to explain himself out of this. "You just want everyone to kill themselves so that _you_ can be the victor."

"You heard what Hiccup said. There mightn't even be a victor at the end of this!" Hiro argued back with equal ferocity.

"Oh, so you listen to him now? Funny, explanation never stopped you from drilling a hole into someone's _leg_ before." The Career's every word was biting and harsh, reeking of threats she couldn't quite carry out.

"Our lives were never our own to begin with," the Ice Witch intoned, ignoring the heat in the argument. The debate faded as the mutant morosely surveyed them. "Our emotions, our hopes, our lives – "there was a bitter smile on her lips "– it's just Capitol entertainment. We've always been tools, either for slavery in the Districts or hollowed puppets for macabre games. The question we ask then, is that all that we wish to be?"

There was something about the blonde mutant – something cold, yet burning; broken, yet firm; composed, yet emotional. In those five seconds, Merida began to sense the regality of her manner that had led people to call her 'Queen'. It was with that regality that she made a firm declaration to Hiro, "Whatever it is you've planned, I'm in, as long as it shames the Capitol."

"The Capitol took the best friend I'd ever had," Ralph added. Merida shot him a look of surprise – a gesture that he neglected, or perhaps _refused_, to return. "You have me."

"We're in," the District 2 boy said. His District mate opened her mouth to object, but he grabbed her hand, squeezing it. The wounded girl fell back behind him, displeased but not voicing it.

Finally, Hiro turned to Merida. "What about you?"

Her answer was no. Shaming the Capitol was attractive, but was it enough for her let go of her primary mission? At the same time, was there anymore point in trying to be a hero when the Capitol has done its best to mould her into a monster? With each inch closer to victory was a step away from her better self. Perhaps it was time that she admitted defeat, fold the cards and confess that she had played right into the Capitol's hands. But here again was her chance. Make it right. Choose the right allies. Fight the right enemy.

"Alright. What's the plan?"

The plan was both simple and complex at the same time. Simple, because the steps that everyone needed to complete were few. Complex, because completing the steps was the challenge itself.

Hiro explained most of the ideas, and Hiccup only occasionally interrupted to add in his own portion. The District 2 boy didn't speak as much as he could, though his influence on the plan was apparent. The other tributes still regarded the tributes from the Career districts with a good deal of suspicion, thus most felt comfortable with the other skinny boy in the lead.

Shooting ice at the creature was pointless, Elsa had mentioned. She had attempted such in her first encounter with the beast, and the thick hide of the creature lead to severely underwhelming results. A weapon of greater precision was needed to strike at a specific weakness, Hiccup suggested. Both of the young boys began on an intense dialogue on available materials and possible constructs, even hastily sketching designs in the ashes.

While the Snow Queen continued to fortify their shrinking defense, strategy was also discussed. All of them were roughly familiar with one another's abilities by now, so it was no big task to allocate roles; Merida took ranged attack, while Ralph took full-frontal assault. The Snow Queen constructed defense and worked on reducing damage. Hiro would be technical support and -

"I'll need my dragon, actually," the District 2 boy added as an off-hand remark. Hiro didn't like that idea – clearly he had no great liking for the reptile. Merida also internally disagreed with the idea, but hers was rooted in fear. The mutt wasn't dumb. It could probably recognize her as the one who shot him down, and the one who took his boy from it. If there was anyone that that mutt would want to destroy besides the Red Death, it would be her.

However, the benefits of an airbourne attacker far outweighed the misgivings the two of them had, so it was agreed that Ralph would help Hiccup to retrieve his dragon, since the Snow Queen was far too vital in holding off the Red Death, and the black dragon was likely to hold grudges against the other two. For some reason, the injured boy insisted on bringing his injured District mate along. Not the most practical move, but perhaps the wisest all the sane. Even now, Merida felt that the District 2 girl wasn't as committed to the idea of a mass suicide, so letting her stay in the remaining company would only result in conflict.

When all that needed to be said had been said, the teenagers all looked at each other, fear and determination scrawled over their faces.

Then finally Hiro spoke, "Let's do this."

The District 2 Careers and Ralph were given a head start. The Snow Queen had constructed an ice crutch for the District 2 boy, allow him some independence in his movement. Through a wave of her hand, she also opened up tunnel for the three to leave to pursue their own mission.

It was finally then that Merida asked, "Are we really all going to die?"

Hiro gazed at her with surprise, then glanced at the mutant.

The Ice Witch shrugged. "It's your choice."

Pursing his lips together, the boy finally said to the District 5 girl, "If we do this right, none of us will die."

* * *

Finding Toothless again wasn't all that difficult – just follow the path of destruction. Indeed, if one examined the pattern of crumbling trees, the location of the Night Fury could be easily spotted.

The hobble was painfully slow, but the other tributes kept the monstrous beast occupied such that they could leave unnoticed. The ice crutch really helped, but, of course, the fingers gripping the ice construct was burning with cold. That was really the last thing on Hiccup's mind though.

The District 11 boy was a great help actually. For one, when Astrid began having more difficult keeping up, the boy had silently offered to carry her. The girl refused pointedly at first, only relenting when she'd started bleeding again. Out of the company, the boy known as Ralph was the only one who was not in direct conflict with either party, and with much reluctance, the young blonde girl trusted him.

Her bleeding still worried Hiccup though. Removing the arrow had been a boon and bane. The arrow was still lodged in his own leg, so though it hurt like fire and brimstone, it did plug the wound. On the other hand, Astrid's loss of blood may prove to be more deadly that any four hundred feet tall dragon. The thought of the redheaded District 5 girl, slotting arrow after arrow on her bow, send shudders down Hiccup's spine, and it was reignited at the sight of the grand Night Fury buried under the fallen logs, pinned like a butterfly by a nail.

"Oh, Thor, no, no,-"

Like he said, finding Toothless wasn't all that difficult. It was dealing with what came after.

Ralph again proved to a useful companion. With brute strength alone, the large boy managed to push aside the damnable logs, freeing the beast. The Night Fury let out a relieved grumble as it pushed to itself back its feet.

"Toothless!" His own agony was forgotten as he dashed towards the beast. The dragon made an affectionate purr at the sight and smell of him, clearly relieved in every meaning of the word. The usual enthusiasm the Night Fury carried however was suppressed by the arrows protruding from his side.

Hiccup forced himself to breathe slowly. He couldn't panic – that would just worry Toothless more. "Bud, this is going to hurt."

The arrows had to be removed if Toothless was going to move at all – both pierced the lower body, just over his left hindleg. Hiccup wanted to do it himself, but he lacked the strength to make it quick and painless. Ralph had far too much strength on the other hand, and Hiccup feared that he would break the arrows rather than pull them out cleanly. In the end, Astrid volunteered, so with two swift motions and howls from Toothless, the horrid projectiles were removed and discarded. Hiccup kept his arms around the dragon's neck throughout the whole thing, hoping that his embrace could somehow elevate the pain. He rarely felt the extremes of emotion, but at that moment, he really, really hated that District 5 girl.

Hiccup ran his fingers down the scales of the beast's skull, murmuring comforting nothings. A swelling protectiveness grew in the boy, and he silently vowed that no further harm should ever come upon Toothless again. The District 11 boy watching the exchange understood nothing, but the District 2 girl only gazed on the two with pity, knowing that such vows were pointless.

With that said, what she did know was severely limited, because the way Hiccup saw it, there was _hope_ – a fragile hope. It came in the form of a complicated plan that demanded speed, endurance, lies and a careful staged show.

"I hate to ask this of you bud, but can you fly?"

The green oculars of the beast fixed on him, assessing his attentions. For a second, Hiccup wondered if the beast would strike him down for asking so much when it was in pain. But when that second had passed, the boy was ashamed that such a thought even crossed his mind.

Silently, the dragon spread it wings out, ready for orders despite having no reasons to take them. Hiccup found himself hugging the beast tighter, burying his face in its neck.

He would save them all. He had to.

* * *

Astrid still thought it a miracle that Toothless could fly at all. Fortune must have been smiling down on them, for the dragon's wings were completely undamaged from its tumble. She and Hiccup were to be Toothless' only passengers. The District 11 boy was sent to help Hiro in the preparations to deal with the Red Death, since the beast wouldn't be able to take the extra weight anyway.

Back in the air, Astrid felt safer. Sure, the first time they had flown, she had launched in to a spree of panic. But now the sky was a haven. The ground was where the danger lurked; in the form of ice freaks, redheaded archers and the building-sized dragons.

"Where are we going?" she asked, try not to let her voice quiver. She felt cold, and it wasn't just the snow in the Autumn Quarter that was giving her chills. The leaking warm liquid was the primary cause of her shaking body, she suspected, but other pressing her blood-soaked coat against the wound, there was very little she could do to improve the situation.

"Back to the Summer Quarter," Hiccup replied. With him sitting in front of her, she couldn't see his face, but she could imagine every crease of worry drawn over it. "We're going to need lots of rope to build – well, the weapon. And metal too. The dragon traps I've built have lots of them."

_The weapon._ It was always referred to with such vagueness and to be perfectly honest, even if it was explained with more detail, Astrid was sure she wouldn't understand it. Hiccup and the District 3 boy had spoken with a strange familiarity, throwing around mechanical jargon with ease, as if both of them hadn't been locked in a deadly fight just a few days ago.

"We don't need to work with them," she said quietly, unwilling to break his reverie. "We could run somewhere, hide it out till the rest of them die." It wasn't an impossible option. Both of them were on a dragon, flying off to safer zone, while the other four tributes remained with the Red Death, facing close to certain death. Both of them could be crowned victors.

Hiccup only went quiet at her words, considering them. She felt a swelling frustration. Both of them could be crowned victors. Both of them could go home. Why couldn't he see that? Why did he hold back? Was there something she had missed?

"Then what about Toothless? I leave him in here, forever?"

Then she understood. The dragon. The recurring problem.

"Hiccup," she tried to sound kind. She did sympathize, really, _but _– "You can't have everything. We should take what we can, and our lives are better than none."

"An empty victory earned by cheating and lying. Is that really what you want?" The heat in his tone startled her.

But rarely was someone like Astrid ever intimidated, so she shot back, "Then what? Go on some crazy suicide mission just because you can't keep your pet?"

"Yes! No! I don't know." He shook his head, dismayed. "I don't know."

Not another word was said until they landed. Astrid recognized the creek at once – it was the same one that was near their old cave. Her eyes immediately darted around, searching for those awful Changewing dragons. There was no panic from Toothless, however, so she took it to mean that they were safe.

"Wait here," was all that Hiccup told her, before grabbing his ice crutch, which had started to melt, as he hopped off the dragon. He stumbled through the stony grass, heading straight for the cave. Before Astrid could question him, he disappeared into the cave mouth.

The blonde girl slid off the dragon, sobered and solemn. The sun pouring in from above was marred by the black smoke rising from the Autumn Quarter. The gurgling creek no longer was a welcoming sight, but rather an unwelcome reminder that like the water, time was running out. Strolling aimlessly about, she found her axe. The weapon felt heavier than before, or perhaps exhaustion was getting to her. Still, she held it close to her person, comforted by the one thing in her spinning world that stayed the same.

Hiccup finally returned, still limping with the crutch. In his free hand, he carried the backpack labeled '2' – the same that he had swiped from the table during the feast. For most part, Astrid hadn't paid much attention to it. Other than the bandages that had been used to wrap Hiccup's leg wound, she had found that most of the contents were just junk.

_Bandages. _Of course! That's why he brought them back.

Leaning on the crutch, he undid the zip of the bag, retrieving the bundle of gauze. "Do you remember how to do this?"

Dumbly, Astrid shook her head. He gave a huff of frustration, but she suspected it wasn't really at her. The reason however was something he didn't reveal.

He told her to draw her up the bloodied shirt so that he could wrap the bandages around her stomach. On any other circumstance, Astrid might have felt embarrassed at how much skin she showed, or how close Hiccup's hands were to her, but there was too much seriousness in his face, too much haste in his actions and too much wooziness clogging her brain.

"Fifteen minutes," he said absently.

"What's fifteen minutes?" she asked, perplexed and increasing concerned.

He didn't answer, tying the final knot. Just as Astrid folded her clothes over the bandages, he handed the remaining swathes to her. "Tie over it again if it starts bleeding again."

"But-" he started walking away before she could protest. He hadn't even attended to his own wound, and she was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten about it.

His cold dedication in dismantling his own creations only added to the inner discomfort. She tagged along, gathering the ropes and nets that he threw on the ground.

"Don't bother with the nets," he said, when he saw what she was doing. Balancing precariously on one leg, he was undoing the knots of booby trap. "Just put the ropes in the backpack."

Though perturbed, she did what Hiccup instructed. As she got to her knees and began stuffing the ropes in the bag, she couldn't help but feel his eyes burning into holes into her back. Maybe he was worried that she might accidentally step into one of his traps. She didn't know the place well enough.

The lack of knowledge wasn't enough to deter her though. Watching him tear his old traps piece by piece on his own was painful, so she said, "Let me help, Hiccup."

"I can -"

"This isn't a request, Hiccup." He was tired. She was tired. They were injured. They shouldn't be pushing themselves. They should be hiding, waiting out the casualties. A broken bargain was better than lost lives.

He unwillingly told her how to the spot the traps and which knots to cut so as to get as much rope as possible, so she set off to do just that. Deconstructing the first trap was easy, since the netting was in plain sight, so she just stepped around trigger and broke the pulley with her axe. But while slicing up the second one, she suddenly found herself zipping up into the air, strung up in a tangle of nets. Her axe had once again slipped through the nets, just out of her reach. A sense of déjà vu swept over her.

Her shriek of surprise had caught Hiccup's attention and he had come limping over.

"Get the axe, then I can cut myself out," she told him, but for some reason, he didn't do that. He just stood there, staring at her for a long moment.

"Well, go on," she insisted, but he still didn't move, his face indecipherable.

Astrid's brows creased together, her fists grabbing the ropes of the net. "Hiccup?"

He hesitated, and then – "They revoked the rule. There can be only one victor."

She blinked, shifting herself in the nets so she could look into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It means that only one of us can leave alive. You didn't hear the announcement - you were sleeping - and I didn't tell you because -" he swallowed "- I was afraid that you'd try to kill me again."

Astrid was stunned. She would have taken a step back if she wasn't hanging seven feet of the ground. Then suddenly the odd conversation that she had had with him in the morning didn't seem so odd anymore. The terror that he had looking at her was genuine – it had always been. And why should he believe otherwise? She had tried to kill him before, in this very quarter with the same weapon, only to be trapped by him in exactly the same way. In Hiccup's book of threats, she probably amounted to the same as Hiro, or even that murderous District 5 girl.

Yet there was no fear of death this round. Astrid knew that trapping and killing was not Hiccup's way. Just like before, he picked up the axe and lodged it into a nearby tree trunk, only slightly out of her arm's reach.

"There can only be one victor," he said, subdued. "And I can't leave Toothless on a clear conscience."

Her eyes widened, and all that was a fuzz became exceeding clear.

"I convinced Hiro to lead the others on a suicide mission, because I knew that we wouldn't win on our own. We're wounded. They're not," he went on, hanging his head low to escape her gaze. "It's the only way District 2's getting a victor."

This was crazy, and she made sure he knew that. "Have you lost your wits, Haddock? This plan is stupid! It'll never -" then, she broke off.

The other tributes have somehow gone along with the plan, and even if they were plotting betrayal at some point, they were mostly likely trapped in the Autumn Quarter anyway. Being in a completely different quarter increased her own chances of survival exponentially, and his too.

Except that he wasn't planning on staying.

"Tell my dad that I'm sorry," was the last she heard of him. His crutch had already shrunken close to two thirds of its original size, so he threw it aside, limping determinedly away.

It couldn't end this way. She was the warrior. She was the one supposed to keep them alive. He's not supposed to make the sacrifice. He's not allowed to.

'_Our lives were never our own.'_

It couldn't end this way. It couldn't. She couldn't lose the boy with the bread.

Astrid wanted to beat her fist against something, but suspended in the air like this, the only thing she could strike was the netting of the trap.

"Hiccup, get back here!" Shouting hurt her abdomen, but she didn't care. "Hiccup Haddock! Get back right now! HICCUP!"

He never looked back. If he had, he would have noticed how the cries began to mix with the sobs, and how the mighty Career broke down in tears.

* * *

**Autumn Quarter**

It was crazy, and on hindsight, it wasn't very well thought out.

With the restrictions on her powers now ignored, Elsa was free to create anything she decided with her powers. The snapped bow of the District 5 girl was mended with a layer of ice, but she knew that if kept in the warmth of the girl's hand for too long, it would eventually break again. Still, the archer was the best shot out of all them, and the best distraction they could afford.

"You mug-faced mangle-wrangler! You putrid pile of pig's intestines! Keep ye eyes fixed on me, would 'ja!"

The District 2 boy called Hiccup had mentioned that the Red Deathwas unlikely to have good hearing, but the redhead still insisted on shouting insults of all kinds at it. Adrenaline, Elsa realized. Adrenaline and bravado - the constant shaking of the other girl's arm was enough reveal that. Yet she didn't back down, alternating between shooting arrows and words.

The beast did turn its ginormous head towards the little trembling redhead, half of its six yellowed eyes glaring down at her. Hiccup had advised trying to take out its sight, so the redhead took the opportunity to launch several projectiles in the ugly corneas. However, just as every other strike had, the attack had proven pointless, ricocheting off harmlessly.

The District 5 girl spat a dozen curses, just as green gas filled the beast mouth.

"Run!" Elsa shouted, her arms already poised in the air.

The archer did run, trying to find cover in the trees. Elsa knew that visual cover was no protection from the flames, so she stamped down hard, trying to pull every shred emotion she could find herself. Just as the creature released a shower of fire, a wall of ice rose up – one larger than the one she had created across the Cornucopia on during the Bloodbath. It held up well initially, but as the heat began to build, Elsa found perspiring streaking down her face. She gritted her teeth together, focusing on the things that made her angry.

_Reaping Anna. Killing Jack. Making her a monster._

_Curse the Games. Curse the Capitol. _

An icy barricade shot up, with spikes and icicles growing out of it. The thick hide of the Red Death protected it from being harmed by the ice, but these added obstacles did buy the District 5 girl enough time to escape.

The younger girl was definitely exhausted, but for some reason she still had energy to fight, to run, and to yell at the top of her lungs. This, Elsa, recognized was because of a simple, small thing that the girl could now cling to – _hope_.

As long as all went right, none of them would die.

The redhead dashed towards her, then right past her. "C'mon!"

Uprooting herself from the ground, Elsa joined the other girl in the run. From behind her, she could hear the ice wall tearing apart, and blocks of snows crashing down on the trees as the beast began its steady march behind them. Though its steps were slow, each stride was large. With the ground shaking below them every so often and the fog clogging their throats, it seemed that escape was not so simple after all.

"I don't think we can outrun it!" she heard the redhead yell at her. Briefly, the girl swung herself back, loaded another arrow and shot it at the beast, then returned to running without checking if it was a hit.

An idea sudden hit Elsa. She shouted to the other girl, "Do you know how to ice-skate?"

The archer appeared baffled. "Yes, why?"

* * *

**Cornucopia Grounds**

After the exit of Hiccup, his companion and Ralph, Hiro had been the next to run off. His direction had been specifically to the Horn, and not being a very athletic person, this journey was actually very tiring. To his credit though, the first thing he did was not plonk down for a nap, as tempting as that was, but was to go down on his knees and start scraping through the snow.

It had been ages since he had dug out any mines here, but he could still remember which of the plates had been touched and which hadn't. He worked with the altered plates first, using his megabot to whack the plates and then to pry them loose. Throwing away the useless metal object, he gazed down the hole that it had covered.

The tribute plates had parameter sensors installed in them– that's how the plate could tell whether the tribute had stepped off it. Thus, at the beginning of each Game, if a tribute crossed out of the parameter of his plate before the countdown was completed, the sensors would set off the mines around the plate to kill the tribute. Of course, the mines themselves were deactivated once the game began, but the sensors themselves were not, which meant the circuitry under the plate was still live.

Hiro forcefully pulled the wires from their sockets, then proceeded to sweep some of the snow around the hole into it. He made sure to mix the snow with the soil as he did. The more minerals, the better.

When this was done, Hiro proceeded to the next plate and repeated the same steps. If there were still mines around the plates, he removed them first. He kept the metal devices, since they might prove useful later as weapons, or at the very least, a distraction. He kept a wary eye on the smoke rising over the Autumn Quarter. With each second that passed, he noted how it came nearer and nearer. An involuntary shudder went down his person, and doubt washed over him. Maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe all of them would die the way the Capitol wanted them to.

_No_. It had to work. The cat-like curiosity of the Capitol would stop Gamemakers from making a counter move. That's why out of all the tributes, other than Ralph who was already an ally, Hiro had chosen to seek Elsa first. Her ice powers were a natural counter to the Gamemakers' cameras, so when she had constructed the dome around the six of them earlier, it hadn't just been a temporary defense against the Red Death – it had been a temporary blindspot.

The microscopic cameras had to be plastered to physical objects that the Gamemakers had placed in the Arena; for example, a tree trunk, or a dust particle, or even their artificial sky. However, when Elsa had built the ice dome around the six of them earlier, she had been careful build it within a small clearing between trees. The ground had been covered with ash from the burning leaves, which meant that any of the cameras on the leaves would have been burnt up and destroyed. The ash also covered up the microphones and the cameras below. The shelter of ice blocked any sounds or images from reaching receivers from overhead. In other words, the explanation of the entire plan had been done camera-blind, and if the Gamemakers didn't know what they were going to do, they couldn't stop them.

Moreover, the creation of the temporary ice 'blindspot' in the Autumn Quarter served another purpose – getting the District 5 girl on their side. Ralph had been very keen on 'saving' the redhead for some reason, so Hiro obliged. It wasn't hard to convince her about the 'mission' – she had noticed his armband from the very start, and had observed how the silver band seemed to have multiplied and changed hands. The idea of a rebellion was what appealed to her the most, and in less than a minute, she was in. He had handed the redhead one of the armbands, again instructing her to wear it on the left arm.

Then they had parted, as he ran off to the Horn, while the two girls slowly led the Red Death in the same direction. He couldn't help admiring them – all of them – actually putting aside fear and animosity to work together. It was hope, he realized: the hope that _he _had given them.

There's was thing that still nagged him though. He had promised them that if all went well, no one would die today. That was a lie. One of the silver bands on his arm was still a dud. He had fiddled with it, trying to reactivating it, but it was dead, and refused to be reawakened.

He still remembered how Hiccup had dragged him a little way from the other tributes to conduct a whispered 'discussion'.

"_I know about what you're doing."_

"_And what's that?" Hiro responded with faked nonchalance. Just in case though, he jabbed the EMP button on his working armband. That was to the jam the cameras in close proximity, just in case Hiccup said something that shouldn't be heard by the Capitol._

"_I understand what this is." Hiccup showed him the compass. "I know what you're doing. I want in."_

"_And suppose you're planning to take the others hostage if I don't comply," Hiro answered bitterly, still remembering the frightening District 1 girl and the end of poor Rapunzel._

_The District 2 boy only seemed disgusted by that. "No, but I'm under the understanding that you're trying to save people, and giving me in would help you do that. I counted the bands-" That had led to Hiro raising his brows in surprise "-there's five. The Capitol needs one victor. That's six in total. No one here has to die."_

_Hiro had narrowed his eyes together, careful to control his surprise this time. "There's more to this."_

_The crippled boy hesitated, then finally said, "I can't save my dragon as a victor, and I know you won't let Astrid in on this plan. Quite frankly, I don't think she'd be ready for it anyway. She still -" he had let out regretful exhale – "she still thinks like a Career."_

_So he wanted his girlfriend to be the victor – save her life. Fair enough, but – "Don't mean to throw cold water on anything, but I'm I don't think your dragon can saved an all. All mutts have-"_

"_-trackers injected in them, I know," Hiccup interrupted. "But Toothless already had his ripped out, so that's not a problem. He doesn't need an armband like we do." Noting Hiro's expression of incredulity, the District 2 boy went on, "I noticed that everyone's wearing the band on their left arm, even Honey Lemon. That's where all trackers were injected. It jams the tracing signal, doesn't it?"_

"_Only when activated - which it isn't at the moment," Hiro answered, stupefied. How much had the other boy worked out? "And it works as an escape key."_

"_So simple enough. Six of us, including Toothless, can escape. Astrid can be the victor. All of us live."_

Of course, it was definitely not so simple. There were only four working bands, but Hiro couldn't very well tell the other boy that, so he hadn't. Instead, he had explained to the other boy the point of the endgame in the plan. All of them disappearing off the scream at random would be far too obvious that something was amiss, so the insider to their plan arranged for the endgame to be distracting and dramatic – buy the escapees time to vanish. Following that, Hiccup had produced an alternative proposal – a more dramatic, and hopefully more believable, narrative that they could spin.

No doubt, there was already talking in Panem about how the six of them managed to stay in one another's presence this long without killing each other. Since the purpose of the silver bands and the escape plan had to remain hidden from the public, an alternative reason had to be concocted. One that could be used was not all that far from the truth – fraternity in rebellion.

They would paint themselves as jaded teenagers, tired of being manipulated by the Capitol and no longer desiring to play the Hunger Games. Resigned to their deaths, these tributes decide to conquer the great monster that the Gamemakers sent to destroy them, hoping that if they go down, they would shame the Capitol in the process.

These tributes however are being duped. They are unaware that they are subtly being manipulated by the cunning District 2 boy, who is actually just convincing them to commit mass suicide. He whisks the District 2 girl away, dropping her off in a safer part of the Arena. He traps her, so that she cannot follow him back – after all, she is bleeding and wounded, with at most fifteen minutes left to live. He explains to her his 'plan', and reveals that he cannot leave behind the dragon he had grown so fond of, and choosing reluctantly to stay behind, sending her back so that District 2 can reap the benefits, and also hinted affection. The other tributes would continue on with a mysterious plan to defeat the Red Death, and whether they succeeded or not, they would all perish in battle.

Hiccup would be the sacrificial hero. The rest of them would be valiant fools, sadly tricked into the creating their own end. The blonde District 2 girl would be the resentful survivor. The tragic heroism, the dramatic irony and the dash of romance all made a fantastic story – too fantastic, actually, but the Capitol would swallow it up, as long as it would was a good show. The secrets of the rebellion could stay hidden a little longer, and all of them could escape.

The problem was that Hiro couldn't guarantee his side of the bargain and no handshake in the world could make the cursed armband work again. One of them was them was going to have to be a sacrifice – a real sacrifice, not just for show.

Hiro knew it couldn't be himself. He was the key player of the main mission - saving people was only a side one, after all. He had promised Ralph that he would save the District 5 girl. She had obvious anti-Capitol sentiments, so she would be welcome to a rebellion plot. The mutant was far too great an asset to be left behind in the Arena. And that left Hiccup – the anomaly of the Careers, the son of the Peacekeeping Mayor, the befriender of mutts.

Hiro didn't know how to work around this. He could shrug it off, convince himself that the death of a District 2 boy was insignificant to the others he could rescue, but the value of life couldn't be measured in numbers alone. Besides that, whenever Hiccup spoke about saving lives, Hiro could not help but be reminded of another boy who had entered the Games with a mission, only to die because he had wanted to save everyone.

The unpleasant reverie was interrupted by the sound of heavy steps on the snow. Ralph had arrived to the Cornucopia.

"The tributes from Two have left for the Summer Quarter," he informed Hiro.

"Good." Hiro exhaled. He wondered if he should share his dilemma with Ralph. From his time with him, he sensed that the elder boy had a compassionate heart, and maybe he would give up his own band for Hiccup, so that both Hiccup and the dragon could be saved. But it would be unfair to request such of Ralph– did he not too deserve to be saved? Besides, the long-drawn bargain between him and Hiccup had exhausted most of the 'glitching' abilities of his micro-EMP device, so they was no way Hiro could explain it to him out of the Capitol's earshot.

If it wasn't for the fact that he needed his hands to rip wires out from under plates, Hiro would bury his face in them and scream. But they were working with a tight schedule, and he had a job to do.

"I need you go to the mouth of Cornucopia," he instructed Ralph. "Try to brush off as much snow as you can, then knock on the ground and listen for a hollow sound."

The District 11 boy didn't question the orders, only asking, "What am I looking for?"

"A table rose out of the ground during the Feast. That means that there's some kind of shaft around there, and a hidden shaft means circuits. "

"I have no idea what circuits are, but okay." With that said, the District 11 boy went off to do as he was told.

Just as he had finished disconnecting the twenty-fourth tribute plate, Ralph called out to him. So Hiro quickly headed to where the other boy was, carrying an armful of deactivated mines along.

The large boy gestured to an area on the frost-covered grass. "Here sounds different from the rest."

Hiro dropped the mines in a pile by the Cornucopia's walls, placing his backpack there as well. He went over to the spot that Ralph had indicated, falling to his knees before placing his ear against the ground. He slammed a fist against the soil.

A sweet, resonant echo answered him.

Hiro sat back upright, then asked the District 11 boy, "Do you think you can break this?"

Ralph only shrugged. "I can try."

As great as the boy's strength was, it was clear that he could not 'wreck' the shaft cover. The steel walls were built to withstand even the strongest.

Hiro bit his lip. His fiddling with the wires in the tribute plates could be sufficient to get the effect that they needed, but he couldn't be certain of that. From what he overheard from the various engineers of his district, the central electrical power of the Cornucopia grounds lay near the Cornucopia, and exposing it would be a far safer option.

Tackling that problem took a pause when a _'shink'_ was heard. When both boys raised their heads, they noted that an icy path running through the Autumn Quarter had extended itself into the Cornucopia grounds. There was a scraping sound, before the two girl tributes appeared, zipping down the ice at light speed. It was only after they had tumbled into the snow an abrupt end of the ice path that Hiro spotted the glittering blades attached to both their feet. Instant ice skates, courtesy of Elsa, no doubt.

"And now I remember why I hate ice-skating," the redhead declared wryly as she sat herself on the snow drift, trying to break the skating blades off her shoes. When this didn't work, she grabbed an arrow from her quiver and hammered it on the blades, snapping them off.

The blonde was much more to the point. Leaping quickly back to her feet, waving away the skating blades with a shimmer of ice, she reported, "The creature is coming right behind us. We don't have long."

"Hey, Snow Queen." It was then that Hiro remembered that there hadn't been a formal introduction between them yet, so Ralph still didn't know Elsa's name. "Do you think you can help us break something?"

Hiro's face lit up. The shaft was built to withstand the strongest humans, but it certainly didn't take mutants in account.

After telling her where exactly to direct her powers, Elsa placed her hands on the ground, turning the frosted grass patch into a solid sheet of ice. A hard blow from Ralph was all that needed to shatter the ice-infused metal and the rubble was quickly brushed away. Hiro wanted to cheer when he caught sight of the blinking lights, the printed numbers and what appeared to be the central socket. He dipped his hand through the hole, pulling hard on the main plug, yanking it from position. The whizzing sound emitting from the machine died away.

Just as he done with the other holes, Hiro filled the shaft with snow, and other tributes helped him. Once that was done, all eyes turned to the trail of smoke headed in their direction.

"The Twos are not back yet," the District 5 girl mentioned, surly. "Think they've abandoned us?"

"No." Hiro knew that Hiccup's contribution to the plan was vital, and given his determination to 'save' people, he would not back out from this. His only worry was that the District 2 girl had managed to keep Hiccup from returning. The bond between the two was not a false one, and the protectiveness that the girl had for her counterpart might very well be their undoing.

"Let's get on the roof," Hiro told the others, pointing the Cornucopia.

For someone as tall and strong as Ralph, pulling himself onto the top of the metal Horn was completed in a breeze. But for the shorter tributes, scrapping their fingers on the smooth metal surface was but a futile effort. However, Elsa then created an ice stairway, and soon all of them were standing on the top of the structure.

"We're going to need a lot of snow on everywhere but the rooftop, Elsa," Hiro told the mutant. "Think you can manage?"

"I can try." With a wave of her hand, the gentle pour of the snow began raining down, but just as the boy had requested, it fell strictly on the area around them, but not on the Horn. Still, it was cold.

"Are you planning on freezing us to death?" the redhead demanded of Hiro.

"Relax, kid," Ralph answered before the other boy could answer. "Once the old 'Death arrives, cold would be the least of our worries."

The urgency of the situation was apparent, so Hiro quickly lay the armful of mines of the Horn surface. He then unzipped his backpack, emptying its content with mines.

" '_Muttation Manual' _?" the District 5 girl thumbed the book. The mutant also eyed the familiar object with surprise.

"It doesn't have anything on the Red Death, if that's what you want to know," Hiro told whilst he began dismantling the Megabot. He needed a controller to activate the mines. Then he paused, before saying very slowly, "But the entire book is _fireproof_."

Using an ice knife created by Elsa and an arrow offered by the District 5 girl, the pages of the Muttation Manual were ripped out by the threes and distributed. Hiro had warned each piece did have a 'burn-out' point – where it would no longer be absolutely fireproof - but it should be able to reduce the likelihood of serious burns and buy them time to complete their tasks. Sheets were stuffed in clothing, mostly down the shirt to protect vital organs. None was saved for Hiccup, because Hiro knew that most dragons had an aversion to any part of the book, so Hiccup wouldn't be able to use it if he was riding the Night Fury.

Allocating the thick leather cover of the manual was a hard choice. It was strongest part of the book, and surface area-wise, it offered the most protection.

"Elsa should have it," Hiro suggested. To the girl, he said, "You're our main line of defense, and you'll be facing the beast head on."

"But you're the leader," she protested in return. "The entire mission rests on you."

It was true. All their lives rested in his hands – in the working silver band around his wrist, to be exact. And the fate of Panem depended on his brain.

With a guilt-sodden heart, he took the book cover. Elsa helped him reconstruct the cover, altering its shape and creating straps so that he could wear over his torso like a chest plate.

The change in temperature was gradual at first, when the snow turned into rain. The ice staircase that Elsa had built began to shrink, and the snowdrift around the metal structure started to thin.

Four of them waited in silence. The weight of the moment suddenly felt incredibly heavy. All eyes in Panem were on them now, watching their every move. If their plan failed, none of them would be able to make a quiet exit from the Arena. Hiro knew that protocol demanded that the secrecy of the rebellion be kept over the lives of any tribute, and that meant that all of them would surely die in such a scenario. So in his mind, there was a recurring scream, playing in a loop - _'C'mon, Hiccup!'_

Four pairs of eyes were glued to the sky, hoping for a dot of black to return before the grey smoke covered everything. Hiro could feel sweat rolling down forehead and the ex-megabot felt slippery in his hands. It did nothing to calm his nerves.

Then, the ground shook, and the four tributes eyes fell back down to the Autumn Quarter. Smoked filled up the sky, blocking out the artificial sun, darkening the day into an eerie greyness. Ash began to fall with the rain. Vermillion flames danced in the backdrop, a hellish herald to the impending doom. Behind the billowing curtain of fumes, a flickering shadow could be seen.

Nobody budged an inch.

There are many terrible ways to die. Lynching, for one, is considered far crueler than hanging because the victim slowly suffocates to death. Execution by quartering is sickening to even ponder about – having your limbs torn off one by one with your brain at its fullest capacity could make anyone cringe. Having your entrails yanked out of your body and shown to you would ensure that your last moments are painful and disgusting.

The worse part of them all is how long they took. It isn't just the suffering, but it's that singular, horrifying moment before you tip over the precipice of life. That moment when Death stares at you in the face.

His triumphant howls fill your ears like wine in a glass. His yellowed eyes pierce your own like needles. He gloats at your quivering form, and his laughter rings in the heaven like thunder. Hope in your soul suddenly withers like a daffodil in the storms, and courage shrivels up like water in a desert.

The creature that they called Death had arrived.

* * *

**S/N:**

**So finally I plastered the name 'Red Death' on the creature (previously referred to as the Endgame or Elsa's doom). I think many of you predicted this. **

**The part about the tributes stuffing fireproof pages from the Mutt Manual was something I just wrote off-hand, and heck, it is a weird part. But if I was facing a fire-breathing monster, I'd have done the same. **

**Out of everyone, Hiccup's the only one who pieced everything about the bands and the rescue together. He has enough evidence - Honey Lemon warning of 'only five', why the bands act as keys to blindspot areas, Gothel's compass and etc. Merida could tell that the bands meant something, but she didn't know what. **

**To make it clear, Hiro is in the Game to complete TWO Missions, and the one about saving tributes is a side mission. The main mission would be revealed in soon…**

**Metal Band Recap:**

**Ralph**

**Elsa**

**Merida **

**Hiro - one broken, the other not.**

**Up Next: The End of the Endgame. Who shall be the sacrifice? What is the plan to destroy the Red Death? **

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that this chapter is late, but it didn't want itself to be written. Kinda annoying, but that's why I took so long to finish it.**

**Mailbox for Guests: **

**Anon: The old man is in District 10, so he's North. **

**JustAReviewer: Your guess is correct. **

**Maggietheawesome: I'm really glad that you enjoy the angle this story is taking. It isn't easy to make everything semi realistic; such that deaths matter and the heroes do get scarred. The fanfic is a mash up, isn't it? I wouldn't have any other way though. It's strange that I developed Merida so much when I started this story hating her. I still don't like her much, but she's a great character to work with. But geez... The girls in this story get a lot of limelight, don't they?**

**SSB: I'm glad that you love this story. Hope you enjoy the rest. Btw, Elsa may not end up with anybody, though I praise your optimism that she would live that long to. **

**I'm not completely sure when the next part comes out - I just hope it's soon. Till then, good bye. **

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	46. Chapter 44: 06667 Part 4

The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 44: 0.6667 Part 4

* * *

**Arena**

**Summer Quarter**

"Hiccup?"

Bleeding in the gut or not, she still had a far reach and it wasn't long before she had cut herself out of the net. She bet that he didn't expect her to do that so quickly.

When her body slammed against the stony ground, Astrid felt the puncture wound flare up again. Grunting, she lifted herself gingerly off the ground, glancing down. Spots of brown now appeared on the bandages, threatening to bloom into clusters of crimson.

A pained hiss escaped her lips as she pulled herself to her feet. Her axe slipped back in her hand and she raised it up, inevitably straining her core muscles and making her body scrunch up again. Cautiously, she took one step forward. The burning sensation in her guts was reignited. Clenching her teeth, she pressed the remaining gauze on the wound and took another determined step forward.

The walk was incredible long, or perhaps it felt that way because of how slow her movements were. The rocky hills and the tangled weeds didn't help her hobble through the Summer Quarter. Knowing where to go was easy; fire and smoke in the sky provided a definite trail. Getting there in time was a different story.

Even with the lack of sun, the Summer Quarter felt unnaturally warm. Soot danced in the air, making her cough and her stomach hurt more. The axe was eventually discarded when her arms became too weak to carry it any longer. The metallic weapon fell on the ground, and both hands went to plugging the bloody gap in the flesh.

There was a throbbing in her head, rapping against her skull like a hammer. She drew in a thin breath, forcing herself towards the haze and the noise. She heard explosions, one after another, each a resounding _'bang!'_ against her eardrums. Her eyes were tearing up in the smoke, but she stuck a fist in her mouth to stop herself from coughing. Walking was painful enough, thank you.

It was strange, but she encountered no dragons during her journey. Maybe they had been frightened off by the massive muttation in the Autumn Quarter, or perhaps they have always been under its control, so with it occupied, they had escaped. She wished that she had a dragon like Toothless; flying would have been much more convenient.

Speaking of Toothless, was that a purple blast in the sky?

Astrid almost ran forward before a piercing sting on her left stopped her. "Hiccup!"

She could spot his silhouette against the grey fumes, zipping about in a blackish blur. Luminous flames also circled the clouds, with burst of light marking the shadows of an ominous creature. It was so far away…so out of reach…

She walked faster.

It was a miracle that she wasn't constantly knocking into things, because the world was starting look like patches of color. It was kind of that fuzzy vision that she got after exercising too vigorously without having eaten first. She began to see explosions before hearing them, and when she did hear them, it was like hearing things on the television – loud, clear, yet artificial all at once. Astrid swung back her shoulders, wobbling back and forth as she pushed herself forward. She zipped her coat – her surroundings felt terrifyingly cold for some reason. She turned her eyes to the ground, looking out for the smoothest paths she could take without accentuating the pain.

She didn't know how long it took for her to walk from the centre of the Summer Quarter all the way to the Cornucopia grounds, but it felt like years. Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Her stomach hurt. The clump of gauze she held at the wound was stained brown. Sometimes she would feel a tremor below her feet and that made her steps falter. Other times, she just felt herself shivering so violently that it seemed that earth below her moved. Her surroundings were turning blurrier and blurrier.

She had just been on the verge of collapsing when she felt something wet clinging on her leg. Squinting downwards, she realized that she had stepped into water. Cold water – recently melted. It was a blackish-brownish shade and it smelt like soot.

Astrid lifted her eyes, and she almost fell back in shock.

Out of the twelve monoliths lining the Cornucopia grounds, six had been toppled. The three in front of the Autumn Quarter had been crushed, claw marks and pebbles sprinkled around them. The shining silver Cornucopia appeared to have been burned to a blackened hue of its former self. There appeared to have been dents on it, as if a meteor had crashed down onto it.

"Hiccup?"

But what she could not miss was the enormous carcass lying splat in the middle of the Arena.

The shape was so large that it could intersect the Cornucopia grounds, the Spring Quarter and Winter Quarter all at once. Its body was inverted, such the upper half of the creature's head was submerged underwater. Its lower jaw hung freely in the air, stilled and dripping, no longer capable of movement. The magnificent red and grey scales of the creature's' torso were completely blackened, with spots of blood decorating broken bits of flesh. Mottled patterns were woven in between holes of the strangely shaped fins on its side – its wings, Astrid realized with greater scrutiny.

She wadded closer for a better look, getting less afraid. It appeared that there was something twined around the tooth of the creature. Stopping right by the side of its skull, Astrid slowly reached a hand out, one eye still cautiously watching for any movement. Her fingers caught hold of that object, so she pulled on it. By the cool feeling of it, she could tell that it was a metal wire – a fairly thick one. It seemed to have been jammed in the beast's mouth, she tugged harder until it came loose. The throwback of the pull sent her hurtling back into the water, making her splutter at that time. When she sat herself up, she realized that the blackish water had turned red, and the gauze that was in her hand had been lost.

Groaning, Astrid stood herself up slowly, glaring at the sodden wound just over her stomach. She then examined the wire. It was burnt, and one sharp end of it seemed to indicate that it had been severed.

Suddenly, she heard an explosion and she jumped. Feeling a flare of heat behind her, she gingerly spun around. The blackened horn was glowing from within, a radiant orange licking up its interior. Bits of charred metal flaked off it, flying towards her face. She brushed it off, hurriedly limping towards the mouth of the Horn, clutching her abdomen.

The flames had been snuffed rapidly by the water, but the entire place still radiated heat. Astrid carefully stepped forward, coughing away the smoke. If there had been anyone standing here when it went off, they must have been ripped to pieces. Then she heard more explosions, but of a different kind.

A cannon shot. Then another. Then another. Then another.

There was a pause. Astrid held her breath, counting silently. She then raised her fist, ready to confront her final foe when –

_Boom!_

Five shots.

Five.

This time she didn't stop herself from sinking to her knees. The searing hole in her belly was hardly on her mind. There were so many cluttered thoughts racing through her head – relief that it was over, fear that it was a dream, worry that she would bleed to death before the Hovercrafts arrived.

The Hovercrafts always came for the bodies of the dead.

Dead.

Hiccup was dead.

_This…this wasn't supposed to…no...no…no…no no no no! _

"Hiccup!" she shouted, trying to rise by gripping onto the Cornucopia wall. This was stupid. He was dead. He wasn't going to answer. They were all dead. She was all alone.

"Toothless!" Maybe the Night Fury was alive. "Toothless!"

She knew she had tried sloshing around in the water. She had tried to move, but the throbbing in her head hurt too much. She stopped fighting the drag of the water, letting the lower half of her body stay submerged. The soiled water greedily licked around the damp wound. She could feel her body screaming in protest, but she didn't care.

She remembered hearing James Sullivan's voice blaring overhead and a bright white light flashing above her before she passed out.

* * *

**District 3**

**1 year 3 months ago**

_His name was Tadashi Hamada. He was an individual of above average intelligence, with considerable talent in digital programming and certain mechanical constructs. He was eighteen years old, meaning that, inclusive of the tesserae he had signed up for, his name would have been entered forty-two times in the reaping bowl. As it was, however, his own odds of being reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games had already been rigged such that his name appeared not forty-two times but four hundred and forty-two times in the bowl._

_"Are you familiar with how the Arena works?"_

_They were in the basement of the house along the Victor's Village. Night had fallen and curfew had been imposed by the Peacekeepers patrolling outside._

_This grandiose residence belonged to District 3's most recent victor, a blocky-built olive-skinned neat-freak nicknamed Wasabi. __He had won his vi__ctor title by constructing a make-shift radiation emitter to bake his rivals. Such a grisly victory did leave a terrible taste on his tongue, which resulted in him turning into a much enthused recruit for the secret uprising. Currently, locked beneath his basement with him were two other individuals with similar insurgent sentiments. One was Tadashi Hamada, who we have introduced earlier. Another was the short, seventeen years old electromagnetism expert Leiko, who would eventually gain renown in Panem as Gogo Tomago, the fastest girl alive._

_"The base of the arena consists of dozen of moveable platforms, which Gamemakers utilize in order to change terrain or introduce muttations – a shifting labyrinth, in a way," Tadashi said, pointing at the holographic image in front of them. He then gestured to the semi-spherical structure over the base. "A force field dome caps the Arena. It's usually programmed to look like sky, of course. Cameras are studded everywhere so that Gamemakers have eyes on everything."_

_"Have you been briefed on the blindspots?" Wasabi asked._

_"Areas within the Arena that are inaccessible by tributes and most public filmography," Gogo answered before Tadashi could._

_"They're more than that. Because Gamemakers used to work in these blindspots, there are concentrated wireless computer network systems in these places that connected them directly to the Game Centre."_

_"So if we enter these areas, with appropriate devices, we could hack into the Game Centre," mused Tadashi. "And if we can hack into the Game Centre,-"_

_"-we can hack into the Capitol's own digital system and rip them apart," Gogo finished in chilling finality._

_Wasabi seemed slightly squeamish at that. "O-kay, we're not __going to do any actual 'ripping.' Um, Ta__dashi,-" the boy nodded to show that he was listening, "-your job's basically to enter these blindspot, hack into the system and steal the Capitol's security codes. Don't do anything weird like upload a virus or crash their system. The Rebellion doesn't want the Capitol to know how they got the info, or that they even have it."_

_One could say that attempting such a plan was foolish, but the Rebellion was desperate. While the Capitol fed on the rich produce of the Districts, the Rebelli__on could only scrap by with me__agre rations – all while existing in constant paranoia of attacks and betrayal. Thus, stealing the Capitol's security secrets would give the Rebellion unprecedented advantage over their opulent rivals. As it was though, the Capitol's digital defenses were close to impenetrable due to the great talents and minds that worked behind them. Nearly every rebellion agent who had attempted to crack its firewalls had been immediately rooted out and executed._

_However, there was a place where no such security existed, because it had seemed no need to do so – the Arena itself. The Arena was already a deathtrap, and most those who entered its murderous enclosure on an annual basis only had one out of twenty-fourth chance of escaping, and the idea of a spy infiltrating the Arena to hack into Capitol security was laughable._

_Which was why this might actually work._

_"Once you guys are dropped in the Arena, look for a bright red bag," Wasabi went __on. "It should have everything y__ou need, including a wireless holo-com and a map for the blindspots. You won't be able to download all the info from one – that might set off alarms in the Game Centre. So I suggest choose four different blindspots and then download a quarter of the content from each."_

_"Noted, but download it into what?" Tadashi pulled a face. "You don't expect me to memorize it, do you?"_

_Wasabi chuckled slightly, removing an object from his pocket. "Oh, no. That's what you use this for."_

_It was a silver armband. _

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**10 minutes before End**

When they finally arrived at the Cornucopia grounds, Hiccup was aware of three things.

One: he was late. As it can be seen, the Red Death had already arrived at the Arena, puffs of grey smoke and flaking cinders in its wake. He was supposed to have reached the Horn before the creature did. Still, it wasn't as if he could help it. Moving with only one leg and trying to prevent the other from turning into a blood fountain was very time-consuming.

Two: the Red Death was much bigger than he thought. He had already seen the creature up close one time in the Autumn Quarter, but here on the Cornucopia ground, where no obstructions blocked the line of sight, he could view the creature at its full height and size, and it did not fail to impress…and totally give him creeps. No wonder the Gamemakers could never find a way to control it.

The entire Autumn Quarter which had been snowing at one point was now entirely on fire, like a blazing red carpet entrance for this monstrous VIP. The creature itself was a grotesque being, yellowed teeth that seemed to have only sharpened with age. Its eyes, though not large, were gleaming with a feral intelligence, bent on eliminating the crazy children throwing the little they had against him.

Three; everyone was standing in the knee-deep water. Now, don't get him wrong. With it constantly snowing around the Corncuopia, he had expected the snow to melt into water once the Red Death – and his ginormous body of heat radiation – arrived. Indeed, it was part of his plan to have the humongous muttation partially-submerged in the murky polluted water, which was exposed dozens of wet wires connected to high voltage energy sources.

The thing was, _only_ the Red Death was supposed to be in the water. If everyone else were not to be electrocuted, they were supposed to standing on the top of the Cornucopia. Sure, the Horn had a metallic appearance, but its interior consisted primarily of an insulating carbon compound, which made it an infinitely safer standing spot. Then again, considering nobody was getting electrocuted while standing in the water, despite the exposed wires, it seemed that the voltage on the Cornucopia grounds wasn't strong enough. That meant they were going to have to do this long way. _Perfect._

From the periphery of his vision, Hiccup noted that dozens of large ice structures swirled about and surrounded the large reptile, struggling to encase it. Not too far from there, he spotted the large District 11 boy throwing various objects at the beast, from broken branches to huge snow rocks, hollering insults at the same time. It was obvious that this was not a battle that was meant to be won, but a distraction to buy time – to buy Toothless and him time, to be exact. He observed through the fog that there were two figures hiding in the charred Horn, so he directed Toothless to fly in that direction.

"Why are you all in the water?" Hiccup barely registered the twang in his leg when he slid off the dragon, wading into the Horn. Toothless followed closely behind, ducking his head as they headed deeper into the structure. Hiro was fiddling with odd device and the District 5 girl appeared to just pacing around. From the huge ice structures poking out of nowhere and the loud holler outside, he could guess that the ice mutant and the District 11 boy were outside, possibly distracting the monster.

"What kept you?" The Five girl looked like she wanted to rip his head off, but a growl from Toothless made her take a step back. Still, she held her animosity. "And where's your friend?"

"Thanks to your precious arrows, she's too weak for the return journey." Hiccup didn't need to lie about this, or even fake the accusatory tone. Astrid wasn't that weak yet, but once enough blood had left her system, she would be. Her time was running short.

He glanced down at his gnarled leg. His time was, too.

"Merida, go help Ralph and Elsa," Hiro broke the tension. He handed the bag and the megabot – or a severely edited version of it - to the redhead. "Try to use the mines to distract the creature for a bit."

"You want me to shoot explosives at a creature that spews fire." The District 5 girl was heavily skeptical.

"Loud noises confuse the dragons. That was in the Mutt Manual. That'd buy us time," Hiccup said, giving an approving nod to the other boy. "Good idea."

"Thank you." Hiro beamed back. It was almost friendly.

"You can give each other medals when this is over," the archer said snidely, breaking the fragile moment of good will. She grabbed her bow. "If we still have hands at the end, that is."

"Merida," Hiro called to her before she exited the artificial cavern. "Arrows."

The girl halted her steps, giving him a sidelong look. From the other opening of the Horn, Hiccup heard a huge splash as yet another of the mutant's ice barricades tumbled under the heat.

The redhead eyed the fiery battlefield outside with distaste, then back at Hiro. It seemed that she would refuse his request, but the boy's hard stare made her give in. "Fine."

She drew out two of projectiles, tossing them carelessly at Hiccup. The boy caught them easily, but the act was interpreted as an attack by the Night Fury. Toothless suddenly snarled at the girl, crouching down in preparation to pounce on her. Hiccup was hurriedly wrapped his arms around the beast, holding him back.

"You should just go," he told the girl shortly. He kept his own breaths even, just in case the dragon detected his own anger.

After the District 5 girl's departure, Hiccup repeated the question, "Why are you all in the water?"

"You're kidding, right? Didn't you see outside?" Hiro breathed out a curse. "When the Red Death came in, the first thing it did was barbeque the roof. It's like walking on a frying pan, so unless you wanna burn your feet-" he shook his head "-no standing on the Horn."

Hiccup made a frustrated groan. "Well, that's just perfect."

"Anyway, as you can see, the current here isn't strong enough. We'll just have to do it the long way to complete the circuit." Hiro took a step towards the boy and the dragon, but the latter let out a threatening rumble at this move, causing him to pause.

Hiccup sighed, then patted on the dragon on his head. "It's alright, bud. He's not the enemy."

The Night Fury glared fiercely the District 3 boy, trying to silently impress the consequences for breaking his boy's trust, before consenting to take a step back.

Hiro then approached with extra caution, till he was standing just three steps away the other wiry boy. "So did you bring it?"

"Yeah, but the plan's all-"

"Stick to the plan. We can work with this."

Hiccup unhooked his own backpack from behind, dropping it down onto the roof top. Bending down and unzipping it, he gingerly removed the wooden object within it. It was the very first perfect catapult that he had designed back in training days. It was small, light, capable of long distance shots at high precision. He didn't want this weapon to splinter upon usage like the other catapult he had used to shoot Toothless down, so two more items needed to be used to construct the limbs of the catapult. Something light and hard.

Like carbon-core arrows.

"Hand it over."

After Hiccup placed the weapon in the District 3 boy's hands, the latter proceeded to string up one arrows to the trigger, tying it up tightly with the rest of the structure. The second arrow he kept under his arm

"You better check it," Hiro said, before returning the completed catapult to Hiccup.

Laying the flat side on his shoulder, Hiccup locked the hooks of the catapult stem in position, then squeezed the trigger. The results were as expected.

"Did you bring the other thing I asked for?" the District 3 boy asked.

"Yes, though I'm surprised you didn't find it while you were there." Hiccup yanked out the last object at the bottom of his backpack, before passing it to Hiro.

"I didn't have time to notice it. C'mon."

In truth, this particular item had not been found in the backpack that Hiccup had procured from the Feast. It had actually been found it in a certain red bag that was supposed to have been acquired by a certain bespectacled blonde from District 3 during the Bloodbath. However, in the hands of the District 2 boy, it had meant very little and was subsequently lost in a certain blindspot in the Summer Quarter. Of course, only after its significance had been revealed did Hiccup go all the way back to retrieve it.

* * *

**District 3**

**1 year 1 month ago**

_"Wait, what? You can't be serious."_

_"I thought it was pretty obvious."_

_"But-but-" he was in a daze. This didn't make sense to him. From what Tadashi understood, the Rebellion gaining the security codes would give them a huge edge over the Capitol, which could lead to an uprising and hopefully an end to the tyranny of Panem. It was supposed to save lives._

_Then why must lives be lost? Didn't that kind of defeat the purpose of the mission?_

_"It's war, Tadashi. It's expected."_

_"How can they do this to you?" He didn't know what he was more aghast at – that they expected him to actually participate in the slaughter, or that his best friend had volunteered for the mission while knowing that she would join the dead._

_"You can't go in alone, because that would be too dangerous," she explained it to him like he was a child. "So I have to go with you and make sure that you emerge as victor. They'll be giving us extra weapons and cheats so that we have better chances of surviving. It's the only way you can get out the Arena and give the Rebellion the intel."_

_"But you'll die!"_

_"I know." Gogo sounded rather impatient. "That's how it has to be."_

_He couldn't accept it. Even after night had fallen and Gogo had left, he couldn't stop brooding over it. The idea that twenty-three children, and one of them his best friend, had to die so that he could live was something that kept gnawing on his inside._

_"You're awfully quiet," his brother commented while they washed the dishes. Their parents had died during a 'rebellion raid' when Hiro was three, leaving Tadashi to bring both of them up at the tender age of eight - that, or face the homes. The raid itself was just an excuse to ignite fear in the District and squash any thoughts of revolution, but obviously, it did the exact opposite in the heart of the elder Hamada._

_"Trying to solve a problem," was all Tadashi offered as a response, drying the plate and setting it on the shelf. The mission was supposed to be one of absolute secrecy. Just in the case it botched and the Capitol secret police caught wind, family members had to stay blameless._

_"Well, I'm going to give you the useless advice you always give me," Hiro said cheerily while soaping the next dish, oblivious to the weight of the dilemma. " 'Look at it from another angle.' " He flailed his arms wildly for effect._

_"Thank you. I never realized how unhelpful it really-" the older boy broke off as an idea slowly dawned on him._

_"Tadashi? Hey! Get back here!"_

_Hiro had to finish washing and drying the dishes on his own that night, because the elder Hamada had immediately sped off to the Victor's Village. It was fortunate that he didn't bump into any Peacekeepers, because honestly, he forgot all about looking out for them. He was so enthused about his brilliant idea that the grouchy Wasabi, who had been awoken from a happy dream where everyone used their allocated amount of toilet paper, wanted to slam the door in his face and tell him come back in the morning._

_But to his credit, Wasabi, though mostly a fussy fellow, endured the inconvenience and let Tadashi into his home. From then on, both nerds began a long discussion involving the miniaturization of storage devices, EMP video jammers and voice-activated triggers. Research in old creations was done. Models were developed. In the basement of a house along the Victor's Village came the creation of one of the most complex, miniaturized digital devices ever to exist._

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**9 minutes before End**

"No. No. No-it's-well," Hiccup scrambled for the words to explain it, "No. Toothless would never let her."

"She's got the score of eleven. She's the best shot."

"With a bow!"

"A bow's not going to be strong enough. That's why we made this."

"This is insane!"

"This was your idea. I'm just embellishing it."

"Urgh." Hiccup buried his face in his palms. "Why am I so crazy?"

"Existentialism later," Hiro snipped unsympathetically. "Work on convincing your dragon."

Hiccup let out an incoherent grumble before turning to his dragon. Leaving the two to 'discuss', Hiro headed towards the mouth of the Horn and stuck his head out. He hadn't missed the fact that the water level had been steadily rising, which meant that more and more of Elsa's ice constructs had been melting. He spotted the three tributes hidden behind an ice palisade, systematically launching mines at the beast. It seemed to be working, since the Red Death seemed really annoyed with the lot of them.

"He's not very happy about this, but I don't think he'll kill her."

Hiro pulled himself away from the sights outside, turning to the brunette boy. By expression alone, it was obvious enough that Hiccup was very reluctant about this, but still he swallowed the fear for the sake of others, even if those 'others' had tried to kill him before. Out of all the people had he had ever met, Hiro knew that this boy was truly an extraordinary one.

"Well, let's go then."

Hiro was about to step out of the Horn when he heard Hiccup call, "Wait."

The District 3 boy faced at him, slightly puzzled.

Hiccup looked slightly embarrassed, taking in a breath before saying, "You haven't– I don't have a band."

Oh, right. _That part. _

Hiro's shoulders tensed up. Maybe he should just give some excuse about him needing it. Or maybe lie that the bands weren't important. Yet in his heart, Hiro already knew what he needed to do.

"Here." He slipped a band off his wrist. He pressed one of the buttons on it, before handing it to the other boy. "Once you're in the air, you have to whisper the password into it."

Hiccup blinked, looking surprised. "Whisper the password?"

"It's voice-activated," Hiro told him. He was careful to keep his voice steady. He couldn't afford Hiccup to notice it. In a low tone, he added, "The password's 'Baymax'."

" 'Baymax'." Hiccup repeated, also soft so that the band wouldn't pick it up. He nodded to the other boy. "Alright, let's go."

"Wait. Um-" It was Hiro's turn to hesitate. Under Hiccup's curious gaze, and much the same from the Night Fury, the District 3 boy stammered, "I just-well-I guess." He pressed his lips together, then said very slowly, "I'm sorry. For, well, you know."

Both boys involuntarily peered down to the crooked, bleeding leg.

Finally, Hiccup answered with utmost sincerity, "Thank you."

* * *

**Game Centre**

**District 3 Living Quarters**

**1 year 2 weeks ago**

_"They're quite upset with you, actually. This wasn't what you had agreed to do. They're ordering you stick to the original plan."_

_They had cleared all the Avoxes out of this room before Tadashi had hit the button on his reprogrammed armband, switching the EMP component on. This tiny device emitted electromagnetic pulses that scrambled the signals of any cameras surrounding them, so that the Capitol wouldn't know about this discussion. Keeping the Capitol in the dark was apparently of such great importance that the Rebellion would rather abandon the mission than break the silence._

_"Can't you explain it to them?" Tadashi argued back. Gogo didn't say anything, choosing to spend her time dissembling the television remote._

_Wasabi, who had managed to secure the position of Gogo's mentor for this year Games, shook his head. "I tried. They're sticking to their guns."_

_"Twenty-three other kids, Wasabi, and one of them's Gogo." Tadashi clenched his fist, then unclenched it, then clenched it again while thinking of a way to express his thoughts. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he told the elder boy, "Look. As promised, I'll steal the codes, emerge as victor and give it to them. It's not going to take anything from them if this-"_

_"The cameras, Tadashi," Wasabi interrupted plaintively. "The Gamemakers would see a person disappear from the screen. That's enough to rouse suspicion, which in turn would cause an investigation. It's too risky."_

_Because that's how the Rebellion operated: through the Capitol's ignorance. In technology, manpower and resources, the Capitol always won, so the only way the Rebellion stood a chance was by stealth. If the Capitol knew that the Rebellion was active again, they would be crushed instantly._

_But Tadashi wasn't about to give up. "Well, deaths can be faked, right? I've installed the tracker-jammer in the band, so the tributes just needs fake their deaths in a place that's visually-obstructed with, like, like-" he racked his brains for a suitable example._

_"Smoke?" Gogo suggested as she stabbed her screwdriver into remote, breaking the cover._

_"Smoke!" Tadashi repeated triumphantly. "Or water!"_

_Wasabi had unintentionally become devil's advocate. "And the lack of bodies?"_

_"The Gamemakers aren't always able to find the bodies. Remember that year when they flooded the whole Arena? Half the bodies got lost."_

_"And that year were they unleashed man-eating animals that swallowed people whole. Almost zero bodies," Gogo interjected with her usual deadpan. "Some skulls though."_

_"Yeah…" Tadashi seemed slightly disturbed at the mention of this particular event, but nonetheless continued his plea. "This plan can be work, Wasabi. Could you show them that?"_

_The mentor hesitated. Tadashi pursed his lips together, staring down at the band on his wrist, then said, "Look, if you won't talk them, let me do it."_

_"Tadashi, it's not that simple. You can't just call them up and-"_

_"Life's too precious, Wasabi, and with this-" he waved the band at the other boy, "-I can save another life. I know it's not a lot, and if I could, I would save everyone in the Arena. But since I can't, -" his eyes were pleading "-just give me a chance to save just one person. Just one. Please."_

_Every word was so full of sincerity and compassion, so much that even Gogo, who had chosen to adopt an attitude of nonchalance, turned her head towards him._

_Wasabi was clearly conflicted, but eventually he relented. He pulled out his communication device, typed something in, then handed it to Tadashi._

_The boy nodded at him. "Thank you." _

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**8 minutes before End**

She yanked out the remaining fireproof sheets from her clothes and literally threw them in Hiro's face. The District 3 boy cried out in surprise by the unexpected paper assault, but Merida decided that he pretty much deserved it. Anyone who put her in such position deserved it.

"Anything else?" she asked in a mockingly polite voice. The dragon hissed at her, having detected the threat in her voice.

The brunette boy glanced at his dragon, then at Merida – or rather, at the objects strapped to her back. "No arrows. He remembers them."

Another tirades of swears fell from her lips, but the District 2 boy stood firm. Worse still, Hiro was siding with him this time, so she had no choice but to unsling the quiver and drop it into the water. She was sulking, of course. There still five good arrows left. To be fair though, the ice that held weapon together had been melted by the heat, and as of now the ice mutant was too occupied to fix it again. So it wasn't as if she could use the bow anyway. All the same, there was no way that she was riding with the son of the Peacekeeping Mayor without a little security.

"Now is your pet satisfied?" she spat. The black dragon sniffed her suspiciously and though appeared displeased, did not make any further objections. Its brilliant emerald eyes however burned at her, warning and watching. Good thing it didn't know about what she had in her pocket.

The boy on the beast's back was unhappy too, but he only said, "Get on."

He offered her a hand, but she slapped that away, choosing to mount the reptile on her own, sliding right behind him. She could sense his body stiffening in response to her own, but she pretended not to notice. From where she sat, Merida could spot the crimson streaks along the left hind leg of the dragon, marking the penetration point of her shots. She could also see the scarlet liquid dripping down the boy's leg, soaking into the remnants of his bandages, Whether she liked it or not, the mistrust was valid.

"You should get rid of that bow, you know," Hiro told her, lifting the catapult up to her. "You won't have enough hands for it."

"I-" Merida didn't know how to explain it. Even though it was only good for firewood by now, she couldn't discard it so carelessly. The care that went into cut each letter was far too precious. The words carved on the broken wooden limbs were her only remaining reminders of her old self.

Reminders to be a hero.

So instead, she tied the bowstring to her right leg, letting the broken pieces dangle off her shin. Then, she took the catapult, hoisting it on her right shoulder. The Two boy took hold of the ammo – two bundle of metal wires. Each bundle consisted of a single length of uncut wire of high heat resistance – but unfortunately, not of sufficient heat resistance to withstand the Red Death's methane fueled flames. Each wire had two weights tied to each of its ends, and these weights were to be loaded on the catapult.

"The Red Death takes breaks in between shots, and that's the best time to shoot at its mouth," Hiro instructed. "It's a very short window, so you have to very quick." He pointed at the two metal weights tied at the ends of each wire.

"Four shots within ten seconds," Merida mused, more thoughtful than daunted. She snatched one of the metal weights from the Two boy, earning an indignant cry from him. She pulled the arm of the catapult back, then placed the weight into the catapult cup. Telling the District 2 boy - "Well, move it then."

"You might want to hold on," he told her gruffly. His beast harrumphed.

She snorted. "To you? No way."

She regretted saying that the minute that they zoomed into the air.

Zipping close to seventy miles per hour, Merida discovered that air resistance could be deadly, especially when it grabbed hold of her coat and its heavy contents, yanking her down with gravity. A scream left her lips as she scrambled for purchase, finding it only when her left fingers caught the District 2 boy's shoulder.

But now, gravity's pull was still far too great. She swung an arm over him, finding a better grip when her hand grabbed his face instead.

"_MMMMMHHHH!_" was all she heard from the boy. He was shaking his head, rapidly, trying to throw off her grip but she refused to let go. Who cares if he couldn't breathe? She was falling!

They were zipping higher and higher, going almost vertical. Her curls felt as if they were being ripped off her scalp, and she was thankful that they weren't her original length. Her right arm was starting ache as it fought to hold onto the catapult.

Abruptly, the traumatizing ascent transformed into a peaceful float. The obsidian dragon had spread its wings fully, flapping them rapidly to keep their position in the air.

"You okay?" the boy asked her.

"Yes – considering your dragon tried to kill me." The fear and adrenaline automatically transformed into snippiness. She gazed at the catapult, checking for that it was still intact. "Do you still have the wires?"

"Yes. Um, Merida?"

"Yes?" It did surprise her that he knew her name. There had been no introductions after all. Hiro must have mentioned it at some point.

"Can you please let go? I can't breathe."

It was only then that she noticed that she had retained her grip on the boy, only that her hand had slipped from his face to his neck instead. She could feel his body tensing up again, and it hit her that she knew this feeling. He had reacted exactly the same way when she had locked her left arm around his neck the last time, dangling an arrowhead along his throat.

Seeing that their position was suitably stable for now, she cautiously released him, choosing to hold onto his shoulder instead. She felt him relax, and an unwanted pang of guilt almost made her apologize.

Well, till she noticed him doing something exceedingly weird. He now wore a silver band - given by Hiro, no doubt - but that wasn't the weird part. No, he was whispering at it.

"What are you doing?" Her tone should make it obvious that she thought him mad.

"Activating it," he defended himself, shooting a quizzical look at her. "Didn't Hiro tell you to do that?"

She was stupefied. "Hiro didn't tell me to do any-"

Then, there was a sharp jolt running up her left arm, sudden and stinging. Her grasp on him loosen as the ache in her twisted arm was fiercely reawakened. A sudden cry from Hiccup indicated that he felt the same thing.

Merida stared down at the silver band on her with a mixture of horror and amazement. She could see something beneath her skin glowing – her tracker! Strangely enough, she began to hear a strange crackling sound; the kind you would hear when you suddenly disconnect a radio. Except she wasn't hearing it through her ears.

A tingling vibration ran up her arm and she heard a voice, _"Hi there. I know that hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere is supremely creepy,-"_

She saw the silver band on her arm, shaking and vibrating, as if it had a life of its own. She leaned forward, hissing to the Two boy, "Are you hearing this?"

_"-but please don't panic. I'm here to help."_

He dumbly nodded, gazing down at his own armband as if it was a snake.

The sound rang again in her head, and it was unnaturally cheerful. _"Let me introduce myself. I'm Tadashi Hamada, the creator of this armband.-_

"We're going to head nearer the Red Death. Try to keep quiet," Merida heard her reluctant partner say out loud. She rubbed her ears, puzzled. How could she be hearing one voice in her head and another through her ears?

_"-I'm going to give you a 101 on how to get out of the Hunger Games."_

* * *

**Game Centre**

**District 3 Living Quarters**

**1 year 1.75 weeks ago**

_Most of the tributes were asleep by now, wanting to get as much rest as possible before the big day tomorrow. As it was, the tributes of District 3 were still wide awake. It was actually a dangerous conversation to be having but necessary precautions to jam surveillance material had been taken, leaving the two speak as freely as they wished._

_"Electromagnetic waves would send shocks up the person's arm. That's what kills the tracker?"_

_"Not immediately. That's the beauty of it." Tadashi tilted the silver band such that she could see the interior lining of it. "The shock allows the tracker signals to be directed connected to that of the armband. So when the armband is removed from the arm,-" he demonstrated this by pulling it off his own left arm, "-the armband senses it, and causes the tracker to go into total shut down. On the Gamemakers' screen, it would look as if the person's dead."_

_"Not bad." That was as close as praise that one could get from Gogo."But how are people supposed to know that they need to take the armband off at all? And how to deal with all the crazy stuff that comes after?"_

_"Ah, that's what the electric shock's for!" His eyes lit up in excitement – of course, he had been dying to explain it. "I've installed audial instructions in the band. After it's been activated and the shock is given, the electromagnetic waves send vibratio__ns through the humerus bone-" he wav__ed at his upper arm "-all the way up to your eardrums-" he tapped on his own ear, grinning smugly "-and so only y-, um, the person wearing the band can hear my voice and the instructions that follow. The Gamemakers can't detect it at all."_

_A lull fell between the two teenagers. The boy pondered for a moment, before taking the circlet off his arm. When he carefully twisted it apart, it was split into two thinner halves. Tadashi then handed one to his companion. "It's really for you, you know."_

_She gazed down at him, then at the band, but made no motion to take it._

_He tried to press it in her hand, but she refused. "Don't."_

_"Why not?" Tadashi was baffled. "The Rebellion gave the okay. It's super-grudging, granted, but they've got an insider that can cover it up."_

_Gogo sighed, before explaining, "I'm not going to take the fastest route out of the Games. I have to make sure that you're the victor and that means I have to stay." She didn't talk about what she meant 'making sure', but Tadashi already understood the implications. For there to be a victor, twenty-three other tributes had to die. He was soft-hearted one, the compassionate one – he didn't want to hurt anyone, even if it cost his life. If someone was going to cut those numbers to one, it would have to be her._

_"Save it for someone else, Tadashi," she told him, pushing his hand away with a gentleness that normally wasn't associated with her brusque self. "It's wasted on me."_

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**7 minutes before End**

As the ground troops, Ralph, Elsa and Hiro were tasked with distract the Red Death the best they could and draw its fire so that the aerial duo – or trio, if the Night Fury was included – would be able to take the shot after that. It was a wise choice that point of time, since Ralph and Elsa being the strongest of the remaining tributes. Hiro was technically on the sidelines – he was waiting for Hiccup and Merida to drop the wire so that he could plug it in – but it wasn't as if there were many places to hide after the creature decided to up its flame-throwing abilities and turn the Cornucopia into a cooking oven.

Having narrowing escaped from being baked alive, Hiro had found himself slumped on all four, body soaked in water, right in the line of sight of the muttation. The beast held its flame, turning its reptilian eyeballs to the small, wiry boy lying in the water.

Hiro panicked. Running was pointless in the water – he was too slow - so he needed to retaliate somehow.

_Noise!_ He could make some noise and disorient the mutt.

The boy had two things with him at the moment – the bag of unused mines and the quiver from Merida. Since he didn't have a bow, arrows were of no use to him. So he dug into the bag of mines instead, procuring one of the spherical bombs but unable to find the detonator.

"C'mon, c'mon." He rummaged through the bag, squinting to see in its contents. But no, there were only three more mines and an oxygen mask he didn't need. He cursed, trying to remember where he could have lost it. Then it occurred to him that the District 5 girl had been the one to pass him the bag, so that meant that -

He could kick himself.

_-the controller was still with her!_

The water around, which had once been cold, was now much too warm for comfort. He found himself stumbling back, jaw-dropped and breath-constricted, as the giant creature stomped towards, it great body towering over him. Hiro thought that he might have noticed something glittering flying into the creature's mouth, but that could have been just pre-mortem hallucinations.

The creature parted its lips – if the crude, rough scales around its mouth could count as lips. At the back of its throat, Hiro saw a spark light up. His eyes fell to the silver band on his arm, and he swallowed. On the bright side, the Rebellion people won't be able to berate him for his disobedience.

Then there was a shrill sound, one that Hiro was much familiar with. It started small and high-pitched, before growing and swelling, like a bullet-train running straight towards him, till it reached the height of a shriek followed by a –

_BOOOM!_

A purple blast struck the head of the monster. The Red Death, with his attentions called elsewhere, turned from the puny boy to the obsidian black dragon twirling in the smoke. Being much more agile than the larger dragon, the Night Fury named Toothless made a rapid dash past the creature, launching three continuous strikes around its head. While many of Elsa's ice strikes had been useless, the plasma blast actually seemed to hurt the beast.

Then, Hiro heard a small 'plonk' in the water. Tearing his eyes away from the aerial battle between the two mutts, he plunged his hands in the murk, feeling about until he felt something cool and metallic.

He pulled it to the surface, and found to his satisfaction that it was a weight, tied to a long metal wire that extended towards the sky, in the direction of the Red Death. He grinned.

Throwing both the quiver and the bag over his shoulder, Hiro raced back to the sizzling Cornucopia, holding the wires tightly in his hands.

* * *

**District 3**

**1 year ago**

_She should have taken the band. She should have lied that she would take the first exit. She should have never given him the choice._

_They had been separated from the beginning of the Games, which was the first mistake. As it was, Gogo had chosen to go solo because she felt she could eliminate more tributes without him. It had only been on hindsight that she realized if she had stayed in his company, she would have been better able to protect him, and would have also kept him focused on the primary mission._

_However, as with many things, the wisdom of hindsight only came with hindsight itself. It was only after it was all over, when she was forced to sit before the Capitol audience and watch a re-run of the entire 73rd Hunger Games through the Gamemakers' lens, that she realized how lost Tadashi was on his own._

_He had made a few allies from different Districts. One was a friendly athletic District 8 guy, who was eventually ripped to pieces by a school of piranhas. Another was a small, bookish lad from District 9, who Gogo realized was Tadashi's favorite because of his resemblance to Hiro. This poor fellow perished during an attack by the Careers. The last ally was the girl from District 2. Kicked out from the big team and hunted down by them, she gained Tadashi's sympathy and help, and eventually, she double-crossed him. Out of all the deaths she had caused, Gogo regretted killing that little backstabber the least._

_What struck her most significantly about Tadashi's behavior was how little he cared about the winning or the mission itself. In a matter of fact, after she and Wasabi had checked the armband, it was clear that Tadashi hadn't visit a single blindspot; the mission was a complete failure. The Rebellion had called him 'irresponsible' and 'selfish', for forgetting the bigger picture and for getting caught up in the Games like all the other tributes, but Gogo understood it in a way they could not._

_In that fraction of a moment, when he stood in around the Cornucopia and watched children like himself beating and stabbing one another, Tadashi's good heart had been too broken to recall any greater mission than to help his neighbors, even if they were all trying to kill him._

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**6 minutes before End**

Hiccup knew that something was wrong. He had sensed it when Hiro had passed him the armband, and his suspicions had grown when he realized that only his band had been voice-activated. The District 5 girl, whose name was Merida, made it clear that Hiro had not given her any instructions to activate her band. After the whole 'electric shock and the voice talking in their heads' episode, Hiccup had noticed there was a small lighted screen of his armband. It displayed four white bars. This again was not a feature shared by Merida's band.

That's why he had directed Toothless to attack the Red Death when the behemoth targeted the District 3 boy.

"Are you crazy?" he heard the redhead screech behind him. She was grabbing his arm this time, which was at least better than his neck like last time. The catapult she held was jabbing him in the back.

"Hiro needs help," he called back. It would take too long to explain the whole thing, and he didn't really feel like he owed her any explanations.

Toothless, ever the faithful steed, bombarded the Red Death at its eyes– the most vulnerable parts of the beast. As Hiccup had hoped, this drew attention away from Hiro.

Unfortunately, that meant it turned its attention to the riders in the sky.

"Well done, you mullet head. Now it looks like it wants to roast us." The redhead seemed to be a depthless pool of criticism. "So much for trying _not _to be noticed."

"Why don't you just shoot the weights and leave the flying to me?" Hiccup snapped, dumping the remaining weights and wires with girl, causing her to cry out indignantly.

The boy arched himself forward, bringing his head as close to the Night Fury's as possible. In the backdrop, he could hear Merida muttering complaints while reloading the catapult. "Ready for some hardcore flying, bud?"

The dragon grunted in assent.

"Alright." Hiccup straightened himself up, rolling his shoulders back. "This thing has wings. Let's see if it can fly."

* * *

**District 3**

**9 months ago**

_"You sent him on a suicide mission?"_

_Wasabi tried to reason with him, "Hiro-"_

_"What the hell's wrong with all of you?" The boy was horrified – no, worse, he was disgusted. "I thought you guys were his friends!"_

_"We still are!"_

_"What kind of friends let their friends die?"_

_"Would you shut up!" Gogo's self-control had long jumped the fence and disappeared down the horizon. Before anyone could stop her, she had grabbed hold of the younger boy's collar and slammed him against the wall. The action was met with staggered silence from all in the room. __Her breaths were ragged, more from anger than actually exertion. Her eyes were slightly wet, but she blinked them away, adopting the furious visage instead._

_"Listen clear, squirt," she hissed at the wide-eyed boy, "Tadashi was never meant to die. I was. Get it? But I couldn't stop it. I wanted to but I wasn't fast enough." Her voice cracked. "I wasn't fast enough."_

_Just as suddenly, she released Hiro from her grip, a subdued and almost apologetic visage appearing on her face. The boy fisted his collar, definitely shaken, but whether it was by the rough treatment or by her words, none could be sure._

_Eventually, Wasabi spoke again, trying to be kind, "Tadashi knew the cost of the mission as much as any of us, Hiro. But he still did it because he believed that it could save us all."_

_Hiro didn't seem wholly convinced. "How?"_

_"Intel, Hiro. Intel about the Capitol could give the Rebellion the ability to fight back. We might actually stand a chance in the war."_

_The young boy considered these words for a moment, before saying, "Tell me more."_

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**5 minutes before End**

With the first half of the circuit in place, the exodus had begun.

Ralph was the first. There was no choice on his part.

Somehow or another, the District 11 boy had climbed the piles of crumbled ice constructs and leapt him onto the top of the Red Death's head. The muscular boy had launched a fury of punches at the beast's eyes, while the duo on the Night Fury circled it, striking it at sensitive spots near its chin and neck. Infuriated by its minuscule assailants, the Red Death had shaken its head hard, throwing Ralph off before snapping its jaws at the Night Fury, suddenly spreading open its ginormous wings – rough membranous sheets as large as the sails of a ship and talons the size of spears. On seeing Ralph's large body disappear into the smoke and never reemerge, Hiro could only hope that he made it to the other side.

Elsa was the second, and unfortunately, her departure was not an ideal one.

Upon noting the distress that the aerial attackers had with the Red Death, she had waded hurriedly towards the behemoth. With a flick of her wrist, icicles flew towards the beast, piercing some parts of its wings. This daring attack had been met with rage by the fire creature, who had parted its jaws and blasted at the Snow Queen.

It wasn't unexpected, but somehow, Hiro wasn't prepared for it. Just seconds before the incandescence met her body, she had managed to draw up a thin palisade defense. The blaze was merciless though, and even at a distance, Hiro could feel it scorching his skin off. Once the blue and red fire died away, the only things left were thin sheets of ice that quickly melted into the water.

Again, without his original armband, Hiro couldn't check if she had managed to escape in that moment. He could only hope that she did. That aside, Elsa leaving wasn't a problem. The Red Death using fire power, on the other hand, was.

Hiro emerged from his hiding spot – behind a shrinking ice hedge – and hurried back the Corncuopia's mouth. Taking a deep breath, he dived into the water.

Given how much ice Elsa had introduced into the battlefield and how most of it had melted, the water level had increased quite significantly. Fortunately, since it wasn't all that deep, Hiro's lack of swimming skills was not yet a hindrance. With a few clumsy strokes, he managed to pull himself to the submerged grass bed to reach the central electrical unit at the Horn's mouth.

The wire that he had plugged there just two minutes ago was still connected to the socket, but instead of being pulled taut and straight as it should have been, it was floating loosely in the water. Hiro grabbed hold the wire, then pushed himself back above the water surface. The Red Death had taken flight, chasing after the Night Fury. At least that was part of the plan.

But not this.

He pulled on the metal wire, winding it around his arm, stopping when he discovered precisely what he had feared. The abrupt end of the metal wire lay in his hand, blackened and charred, rather than sitting in the dragon's mouth, as it was supposed to.

The circuit was broken.

* * *

**District 3**

**5 months ago**

_"You request so much for someone who can give so little in return."_

_"So little? I understood that these codes are supposed to very important," Hiro answered curtly. "Important enough that my brother and Gogo were prepared to die for it."_

_It was strange, sitting down in Wasabi's basement, talking to a blank holographic screen which only had a voice emerging from it._

_Yet this was the way it had to be. The top man of the Rebellion movement in the Districts never showed his face and revealed nothing about his identity. Even his code name was barely mentioned, so that the Capitol would not know it._

_"The security codes are important," the faceless voice admitted. "But the risks that your request poses far outweigh the benefits. The Capitol would learn that we have people on the inside, and they would strive to root them out. Moreover, the greatest advantage of having the codes lies in the Capitol not knowing we have them. Should the Capitol know of what we know, they would alter the codes. The intel would then be useless."_

_Hiro pressed his hands fingers, racking his brain for a suitable resolution. His eyes flickered over to the bespectacled blonde sitting across the table, silently pleading for suggestions. She was a close friend to both him and Tadashi. She hadn't known about Tadashi's mission as Gogo and Wasabi had, but once she did and found out about Hiro's intention to take on the mission himself, she had volunteered to be his female counterpart in the Arena._

_That is, if the Mr. Mysterious Rebellion Leader gave them the go-ahead._

_Honey Lemon didn't have any better ideas, so Hiro ended up staring back down at his hands, feeling lost and little foolish for even proposing such a bargain._

_Until it hit him. "What if I gave you something bigger than security codes?" He was taking a gamble here. He didn't actually know if he could pull this off, but if he could, then it'd be a win-win situation._

_Mr. Mysterious sounded a little interested – just a little. It was a voice filter, after all. "What would that be?"_

_"I could create a copy of the entire Capitol defense system – software, firewalls, plans etc. With that, I can design a computer program that syncs with the current Capitol system. Essentially, you'd be able to keep track everything of the Capitol does, as long as its digital."_

_He was met with a jaw-dropped Honey Lemon when he was done. The two other youths listening to the dialogue at the back of the room just exchanged looks of surprise._

_Finally, Mr. Mysterious asked, "How would you go about doing that? I understand the storage space that the armband possesses is extremely limited by its size. It could never carry that much information."_

_"The armband can't, but I can." This was also met with stunned silence. The boy continued confidently, "I have an eidetic memory, and trust me, it's pretty damn awesome. I'll memorize all the codes and copy them out manually. Best part of all – the Capitol won't be able to trace it."_

_"Via the software itself. There would still be so many venues for our presence to be detected," the faceless voice pointed out. Then was a short pause of consideration, before the voice asked, "How many do you intend to 'save', Mr. Hamada?"_

_"Twelve," he answered promptly, almost rising from his seat as he did. "Once I remove the data storage component, the armband can be altered to for twelve people, maximum. Of course,-" he hastily added "-if we're to extract people from the Arena without the Capitol learning about it, then we need people to cover up for us-"_

_"-people on the inside. I know." The voice sounded snappish. "I will consider this proposal again, Mr. Hamada."_

_With that, the call was disconnected._

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**4 minutes before End**

_"Jings, crivens, help ma-bludy freakin' heel -"_

Their plan was exceedingly simple actually, such that even a District 5 girl with no experience in engineering could understand. Ice could not defeat the Red Death, yet perhaps fire could. However, most dragons had shot limits, including the District 2 boy's Night Fury, and it was unlikely that a smaller dragon would have enough firepower to burn the larger one to death. So it was decided that they would recruit a much stronger fire – electricity.

In order to do, a full circuit had to be established. The two strongest power points they knew were the force-field dome that sat on top of the Arena, and the second was the extensive electrical system below the Cornucopia. In order to connect these two power-points and the Red Death, wires were needed.

So with her first shot, she fired one end of the first wire into the mouth of the huge dragon. The mouth was chosen as a target because, as the District 2 boy had explained, it contained saliva - a liquid that was more electrically-conductible that the keratin-toughened scales of the Red Death. With her second shot, she shot the second end of the same wire to Hiro, who would plug it into the Cornucopia electric system. To finish the connection, she was supposed to shoot the one end of the second wire into the mouth of the Red Death too, then the final end straight into the forcefield. It wasn't all that difficult actually, besides one tiny yet extremely important detail.

The wires weren't fireproof.

Just as Hiro had said, her window for shooting the four shots was a small because she had to fire them before the Red Death decided to go all fire-breather again. But between her squabbling with the District 2 boy and him deciding to get involved with in the battle, precious time had been wasted and the beast had let loose another barrage of flame. The first wire had been scoured and subsequently, snapped.

The circuit was broken. Their plan had failed.

"Well, what now?" she shouted to the other boy. As of now, they were tearing upwards, higher into the sky, pushing through the smoke, with the Red Death hot on their heels.

"I'm thinking," he called back, his own chagrin evident in his tone. There had been no backup plans after this one.

"Well, think faster! We could hit the force field any time!"

Merida thought of the instructions that came from the weird voice ringing in her head – the one produced from her armband. The first step was to fake one's death away from cameras, which sounded easy but really wasn't. The higher they got into the clouds, the closer they got to the cameras lining the sky, and thus the harder for them to make a graceful exit. The Red Death would have cornered them, and they would surely die.

As the Night Fury wove them through another pillar of smoke, she suddenly heard the District 2 boy exclaim, "It's not fireproof on the inside!"

"What?" she hollered.

"Red Death's a dragon, right?" he yelled, as the Night Fury jerked to a sharp right, narrowly allowing them to avoid the inferno. "Its interior is less fireproof than the outside! Why didn't I think of this before?"

She didn't question how he knew such an obscure fact, only replying, "C'oz you're stupid!"

"Hey!-"

"Worry about that later," she cut him off. "Can you get your dragon to shoot it?"

The boy leaned forward, speaking to the beast, "Toothless!"

The reptile's ears perked up at the mention of his name.

"Bud, on my count, turn around and fire!"

The dragon warbled in response, which Merida hoped meant that it understood. But apparently it didn't, because she heard Hiccup swear really hard after that.

"What is it?" she hollered over the wind in her ears.

"Shot limit! Toothless used all his shots fighting the Red Death just now!"

It was her turn to swear. "You're a regular _eedjit_, aren't ya?"

She could hear him gritting his teeth together. "Any helpful comments?"

Another shower of fire came booming through the clouds, right past them, and hitting the sky. Merida almost fell off her seat when she saw the blueness of the sky dissipate for a second when the fire touched it, before returning to its original shade.

"We're getting too near the force field," she yelled, grabbing the District 2 boy's shoulder and pointing at the color-changing sky tiles. "We need to slow down!"

She heard muffled words spoken by the boy, and the dragon slowed their ascent, taking more side turns rather than springing straight up. This was done in just in time, since they came so close to colliding with the force-field, which was again made visible by another spray of flames pressing against the sky tiles.

Wait. He said that the dragons weren't fireproof on the inside, but dragon fire wasn't the only source of fire they had.

Merida could hear the District 2 boy mutter something – probably melancholically complaining about how they were going to die – but she simply dropped the catapult on his lap and began digging into her pockets.

He was clearly offended. "Did you whatever I just said? If you want to take an exit, now's a-"

"Laddie, just shut your trap." She pulled out the two items that she had procured from Hiro's arsenal before riding the dragon. Since she wasn't permitted to bring her arrows, she had kept with her one of the mines and the controller to activate it as security. Just in case, you know.

The District 2 boy stared at her, then at the explosive. "Were you planning to kill me?"

"That's not really important right now." She placed the mine back into her jacket pocket, then tore the jacket off, bundling it up in a ball. "Now help me load this."

The bomb wrapped in polyester was poised in the cup of the catapult and then the catapult was placed back into her hands, but then the District 2 boy pointed out one very important problem. "If you point the catapult downwards, the bomb's just going roll out of the cup. This isn't going to work."

Merida bit her lip. He was right, of course, with the oblong shape the catapult cup was constructed as, but she wasn't going to say so. Alternatively, a hand throw was unlikely to be fast enough, and it would be even less accurate. Though she would never admit it to him, the catapult was very precise, so she wasn't going to give up on using it. _So, how?_

When she turned her gaze up, Merida found her answer.

"Here." She shoved the trigger for the explosive in the hands of District 2 boy, then took up the catapult with both hands. "When I tell you to, hit the red button."

He examined the device critically. "You mean this thing that looks like an angry face?"

"Yes, whatever." She did a quick survey of their surroundings. The force field was still approximately a hundred feet away, if the flickering lights were anything to go by. "Get your dragon to bring us closer to the force field, but stop when we're hovering right over the Red Death."

"You want Toothless to put us directly in the line of fire?" He was shocked.

"Yes! Hurry up! "

The black dragon moved like a flash from their old position to where she asked. Behind the billows of smoke, they could see the humongous muttation rising up toward them, its jaw beginning to part.

"I hope you know what you're doing," the District 2 boy told her.

Merida sucked in a tight breath. "I hope so too."

When the beast was less than fifty feet away from them, Merida raised her catapult. Of course, the District 2 boy thought that she was still going to try shooting the bomb down towards the beast, because he had begun to speak, "It's not going to-"

She fired, but not down.

She fired _up_.

The detonator, wrapped in the jacket labelled five, rocketed into the sky, smacking straight into it with an electrical fizzle. It disappeared.

The District 2 boy didn't understand what she was doing, so he could only gawk at the sky, dumbfounded. Below them, the maw of the Red Death was spread open. Noxious fumes poured out from its throat, with a spark threatening to combust it.

Then suddenly, another electrical fizzle was heard, and the detonator emerged from the force field, plummeting downwards at that same speed it was fired at.

Plummeting straight into the throat of the Red Death.

"Hit the trigger _now_!"

The boy, having been startled back to his senses, did just that.

The first explosion went off with a loud 'boom!' but when the fire met the gas in the throat the huge muttation, it imploded.

Cataclysmic shockwave after shockwave slammed against them. Fire was sprayed all over the sky, burning it crimson. The throwback was so strong that the Night Fury could barely stay a flight, which meant that it couldn't keep it all its riders on.

Merida was the first to slip off the Night Fury. In a fit of panic and desire for self-preservation, she had dropped the catapult and grabbed hold of her reluctant companion's hand instead. Unfortunately, this meant that she pulled him down with her when she began her undesired descent towards the earth.

Somehow during the fall, the redhead lost her grip of the skinny boy. Clouded in the smog and raining fire, she was all alone. Wind dug into her hair, beating against her skin like a whip against her bones.

Everything around her was dark and blurry. In pockets of light, she could see a huge glowing shape beyond the shadows, hurtling down the way she did, but far more quickly. She heard a shriek, then a cry, but with the wind tearing against the wind, she couldn't be sure.

She could see spots clogging up her vision and her body going slack, slowing taking away her consciousness so that she wouldn't know the feeling of her skull smacking against the ground.

But Merida fought the darkness. She remembered the instructions that the strange voice from 'Tadashi Hamada' in her head had told her.

_"Step one: Fake your own death away from cameras."_

Plummeting to death in thick smog. Done.

"_Step two: Pull off your arm band."_

She couldn't breathe. The air was rushing past her nostrils too quickly for her to inhale anything. So she opened her mouth, trying to swallow as much air as possible. Smoke made her cough, but she didn't care. Air kept her conscious, and she needed to be conscious enough to pull the silver band off her left arm. She feel the tingling sensation there reawaken for a second, then quickly died. She leaned up, warily peering at the silver band she held in her palm.

Then the band began to transform.

The metallic covering seemed to expand, thinning themselves into several small pieces, then rearranging themselves until a small, smooth sphere appeared in her hands. A small light lit up in its centre. Her neck was aching, so she had to bring the glowing sphere towards her face. At close scrutiny, it reminded her of the snow globe she had when she was child.

Her eyelids were threatening to shut themselves, but she clenched her teeth, forcing herself to stay conscious. Even with all the smoke in the way, she could see that the charred metal roof of the Horn racing towards her.

Fighting her plummeting body, she performed the last thing the voice had instructed her to do. Bringing the globe as close to her lips as she could, she could barely crack the word out, "Thir-"

She inhaled sharply, then tried again, this time with greater resolve.

"Thirteen."

The glow of the globe seemed to change at the words, with a strange image appearing on its surface. Merida didn't pay much attention to that though, merely scrunching her body in a ball. Turning herself such that she faced the ground below, she mustered the last of her strength and threw the globe down towards the ground.

She remembered seeing a swirl of glowing colors, then herself plunging towards that swirl. A shudder ran all over her body as the colors flew past her face.

Then she hit water.

The initial impact hurt, but when she finally stopped moving, the bubbles running up her skin, combined with the coolness of the clear water, was strangely relaxing. After having gone through what seemed to be an eternity in hell, this could almost seem like heaven – even if heaven meant that she stayed underwater until she drowned.

Survival instincts told her to kick - to push herself upward, but her legs weren't really responding to her brain's commands. She just lay there under the liquid blankets, worn from life and ready to be taken.

Then she felt hands – firm, yet soft – tugging on her. She felt herself being pulled up, up towards a whitish blurry light. She blinked, trying to make out the weird shapes plastered all over her vision, but she forgot all about that when she broke to surface.

Breathing was good, so she drank in the air, shutting her eyes so she wouldn't get distracted from the far more important task. There was water clogging her lungs though, so she began to cough too.

She heard a voice buzzing in her ears, but she didn't know what it was saying. She felt herself being lifted out of the water, before gently being laid on a dry platform of some kind. She tried raising her hand to rub her eyes, but somehow she couldn't find the strength to do so.

There was this white figure bobbing up and down in front of her – or was that just her vision playing tricks on her? There was this black line dancing in front of her. And dots. Two dots.

_"On-one to ten, how–rate–pain?"_

She blacked out.

* * *

**Arena**

**Cornucopia Grounds**

**1 minute before End**

"Hiccup?"

It was that blonde Career, the one who used to carry an axe. She was a persistent creature, alright. Trekking all the way from the Summer Quarter with an injury like that. It's miracle that she hadn't died yet.

Hiro almost smiled at the odd sense of déjà vu washing over him. Hadn't it just been about ten days or more ago when he had snuck into the Cornucopia, only to be caught by her? Then she had forced him out in the snow to dig up mines to build something – some defense system for something. He couldn't remember anymore.

Now here he was, hiding inside the Horn, holding a mine in his hand, staying as still and silent as possible while she floundered outside.

He heard her sloshing about in the water. Did she honestly think anyone would survive that wreckage? Well, he survived, but that was purely by accident. Or maybe a more appropriate term would be, well, bad luck.

He gazed down at a little spherical explosive. After doing some piddling with it, he managed to find an internal activation button on the device itself. Now, it was just a matter of deciding how to use it.

He could throw it at her. She would die, and he would be victor. The mission wouldn't have gone according to plan, but with all the data he needed in his head, it would be mostly a success.

But something stayed his hand. Maybe it was because of the agreement he had with Hiccup – after all, Hiccup did bargain for her to be the victor. Or maybe it was how lost and scared she seemed on her own - weaponless, companionless, even purposeless. Or maybe because Tadashi would have never done such a horrid thing.

It was strange that after all this time, he still considered his brother a role model. Tadashi did fail the mission, after all, and he didn't manage to prevent another year of the Capitol's violent tyranny. But even in his folly, Tadashi's heart stayed true. He still placed others before himself, displaying courage and love even when circumstances were against him. In a place which brought out the worse of people, it brought out the best of him.

Hiro sighed, peering down at the explosive that he held in his bleeding left hand. His eyes then turned to the silver band in his right.

Mr. Mysterious and his gang were going to be so mad with him.

Hitting the activation switch, he tossed the mine towards the mouth of the Horn, counting silently, _'5, 4, 3, 2-'_

A second later, the mine would explode. The blonde Career would run towards the remains of the explosion site, staring at the black gap that remained. Five cannon shots would ring in the air – no doubt, the Gamemakers clustered them together for dramatic effect. The girl would cry out something, before crumbling to the ground, soaked and shocked. James Sullivan would then announce the end of the 74th Hunger Games, and hovercrafts would arrive to retrieve their victor.

* * *

**S/N:**

**This chapter hopefully explains how everything is supposed to work, what Hiro's main mission was and how everything ends. (I'll use a disclaimer for the science bits and wave my 'science-fiction' card.) Thus, the 74th Hunger Games draws to an end. **

**If you didn't realize, the armband transforms into a teleporting globe - the kind that North uses in ROTG. That's why you need to speak the location to the globe and throw it before the portal opens. There's a pseudo-science explanation for it, of course.**

**In initial plans, I was going to make Hiccup kill the Red Death the way he did in the movies, but somehow in my mind I always had Merida present in that scene, and I did want to use the force field again, so this weird sequence happened instead. **

**One ending for this chapter that I had toyed with was the idea of Hiro killing Astrid in the end. It's not actually implausible - Hiro has good motivation to do so, and with Astrid being so weak, he would win a fight with her. Most people wouldn't have seen it coming, which would have been cool. But in the end, I decide to end it this way instead because very simply, I need Astrid to be the victor. I can't explain this, except that it makes the sequel more interesting - I think. On the other hand, I gave up some excellent moments of future animosity between Hiccup and Hiro. What do you think?**

**This is officially the ending but…**

**Up Next: The Epilogue. A closure for some characters, the beginning of others, and an obvious teaser for the sequel. It maybe one or two chapters, depending on how much I'm spoiling you. **

* * *

**A/N: This was one really, really difficult chapter to write. It didn't want to be written. I was constantly reminded that I hate writing action sequences - which strange, since I did choose to write a Hunger Games Story.**

**So...I've started on this story about a year and two months ago, and it's ending so soon... Sure, there's going to be a sequel, but being so close to finishing the first part is still a mile stone. **

**I should probably write this stuff on the epilogue chapter, but since I'll only get to write that next year (yes, yes, I'm sorry, but I'm gone for Christmas vacation), I'm doing it now. Before everyone forgets what this story was about anyway. **

**Thank you, faithful followers and reviewers. Some shout outs go to my beta reader **_**MissiriKoharehn,**_** who has been following this story from the very beginning and has been putting up with my erratic schedules. Other such crazy people who managed to stick around are **_**Awsomniatica**_**,**_** electricangel12 **_**and **_**that one evil girl. **_**Others that have joined later on, or have already left, you still have have my thanks for your support at that point of time: **_**SmilingStarcat, waveringshadow, Riverfall, Maggietheawesome, hiddeninthelibrary, Tie-Dyed Braodway, WarriorQueen 14, Pearlness4700, GameboyNinjaUltimate Icarus, clara0414, the fam man, Nightingale82, **_**and many others. Whether it was a string of encouragements, or a critique, or even just a question, thank you. Even you, nameless Guest, who leaves a five-worded review at the end of just one chapter, have contributed to motivating me to continue what started as a 3000 word fit of stress. **

**I hope that this has been the best ROTBTFD Hunger Games AU you've ever read, or maybe even just a good ROTBTFD story, because that's what I had hoped to achieve when I started. If you don't like this THG AU version, good. Write a better one and tell me about it. As for me, I'll be planning the sequel. **

**In the meanwhile, I would love to hear:**

**1) What's your favorite part(s) of this story? **

**2) Is there a character who you've begun to see in a different light after this story? (This may or may not be your favorite character.)**

**For me, my absolute favorites are when Jack's conversation with Merida during their brief alliance in Chap 36, Jack's Death and anything with Merida vs. Astrid. The first somehow has a calming effect on me, the second is because I could reuse the angel analogy (you have to read Chap 4 and then Chap 40 to understand what I mean) and it was sad. The last is because, well, these two fighting is the ultimate blurring of black and white. **

**A character who I actually learn to like in story is Merida. When I started this story, I actually hated Merida. I think she's spoilt and self-centred and not a good role model for young girls actually...(not any more than the other Disney Princesses at least). But I guess writing about her and watching the movies more carefully has let me explore her character better. She's actually a very interesting person to write, though my favorite princess is still Rapunzel. (You can't change my mind!.) I've learnt to tolerate Merida, so yeah. **

**Oh, and not forgetting, Guest Reviews Mailbox:**

**Arroq: I'm glad you've enjoyed this story, and even more that you got some inspiration too. Good luck on your own stories. **

**Pearlness4700: Thank you, but I guess the whole point of fanfiction is to pay tribute to the source material after all. If I removed all the Disney-Dreamworks elements from this story, it wouldn't hold water. I guess the' originality' you've mentioned of this story lies greatly in the source materials own originality - it's just a matter of twisting it to the THG context and going crazy. I'm glad that you have enjoyed this story.**

**JustAReviewer: Thank you! I hope you've enjoyed this part too and whew! That's (mostly) a wrap. **

**And the shameless advertisments:**

**As the epilogue would only be out next year, if you somehow enjoy what I write and would like to see more, check out my other stories. **_**The Once and Future King **_**would have Hiccup and Jack as frenemies in sword and sorcery, where Hiccup is heir to the throne and Jack's secretly a wizard (Hell, it's fun.) Occasional others ROTBTFD characters dropping in. **_**Don't Think About Elephants **_**is just a crazy idea of shoving Jelsa in an Inception AU, told through Anna's eyes. **_**More than a Bird, More than a Plane **_**is again another ambitious full-fledged ROTBTFD fic like this one, but dealing with teenage superheroes and ambiguous morality and it's honestly my current favorite. If you miss the conniving Gothel and the two-faced Hans, or any other people who are dead in **_**The Odds of Five**_**, look out for them in this story instead.**

**Of course, all these stories are really short at the moment because I've channeled all my writing energy into **_**The Odds of Five**_**. Hehe. **

**Okay, the advertising is over. **

**See you next year folks! **

**Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and assorted holidays!**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions.**


	47. Epilogue: Cassiopeia

The Guardian Games: The Odds Of Five

Epilogue: Cassiopeia

* * *

**District 12**

It's strange how many people believe in the power of preparation. The idea is that in giving one warnings of the coming event, the blow is supposedly lessened. They often forget though, that when the blow strikes, no amount of preparation can mellow the hurt.

She had been given a good five hours to prepare herself - a generous portion of time, some would say. But in every second of that five hours, she had to wrap her arms around her knees,chewing on her fingernails, waiting for that inevitable end. Sure, there wasn't much point in watching on. With Elsa breaking the rules, it wasn't as if no one knew what had to happen. But Anna still couldn't take her eyes of the screen. It was as if there was some morbid, visceral need within her for closure - to see her sister get disintegrated in a volley of fire - before she could finally pull her eyes away.

In books, people always took ages to grieve. There was exposition after exposition about the tears shed, the sorrows outpoured. Literary devices were often wielded to strike parallels between the bleak backdrop and the solemnity of the situation. But that was only in books. In reality, people still went on haggling for wares in the Hob. The sun continued to gradually melt into the horizon. Snow never stopped pattering down the town square, ignorant of the fact that the Snow Queen herself had fallen.

Those who did know Elsa or her father did offer their condolences to her in the form of kind words or gentle pats on the shoulder. But it was nothing hadn't already happened since the Reaping. It was as if all long Anna had merely been denial about an unchangeable fate. Wasn't it obvious enough that the Capitol would never let a mutant be a victor? Now that it was staring at her in face, she could not pretend away what she saw.

Elsa wasn't coming back.

Dusk was falling. Most people in the Hob were closing their shops. With most of the snow shoveled off and deliveries made, Anna set the spade by the doors before taking her leave. She trudged down the snowy paths, walking swiftly, yet not quite so certain about where she was going. Her coat hadn't been straightened out and her lower arms were exposed to the wind, but somehow she didn't really feel adjust those sleeves. She was far too bothered by simple question; why did everything feel exactly it had been before?

When Hans died, Anna had felt that numbing sensation in her core. It wasn't really sadness - just shock. The kind you got when you realized that someone you once knew, but didn't know very well, was gone. But what horrified her was that she felt exactly the same towards Elsa.

She couldn't understand it. Hans was a jerk; a two-faced backstabber and a liar. Her apathy towards him could be justified. But towards Elsa? Did she know so little, feel so little towards her own sister that she couldn't even cry about it? The most disturbing part was - well, was there actually anything to grieve about? Could she truly lose a sister that had been so absent in the first place?

With systematic reasoning, Anna tried to talk herself through it. Elsa's choices created a cold childhood, but it was with good reason. Her sister had wanted to protect from her mutant abilities, and also to avoid persecution from the Peacekeepers. All of it was very understandable, and even could be considered actions done out of love. Yes, Elsa did love her. So why couldn't she cry about it?

Anna hadn't realized how far she had wandered from the Hob till she had accidentally bumped into someone. He was a coal miner, one whom she had seen before but did not know the name of. She hastily dropped an apology, which was a met with a sigh and a forgiving nod before the man went away. It was then that she realized that the working shift was finally over. The miners were going home.

Anna found herself tearing down the streets, weaving in between the lines of soot-covered workers, her boots defiantly dragging themselves through the sodden paths. There were voices speaking to her and stares fixed on her, but she ignored them in order to focus on her goal - a goal that she wasn't quite sure of. Her legs just carried her away from the Town Square now, away from the Justice Hall where she had last seen Elsa face to face. There were Peacekeepers patrolling around, but she didn't pay them any mind, her eyes still roving about frantically.

She didn't quite realize when her pace slowed, but it did. Right outside the entrance to the mine shafts, crowds of miners were washing themselves. She stood on tiptoes, anxiously glancing past the helmets and harnesses, seeking for something - _someone_.

"Anna?"

The voice was soft, yet above all the noise, she recognized it. Her head turned at once, and she found him - blonde hair, brown eyes, sturdy build, broad shoulders and a concerned expression. Without a word and without a care, she flung her arms around him, hugging his neck as if she never wanted to let go. She felt him tense up, but once that the surprise passed, she found warm, solid arms enveloping her trembling form, protecting her and shielding her from fears she hadn't known she had.

She felt him patting her gently on the back. "It's okay. I'm right here."

And then it hits her that he's truly the only person she has left in the world.

Anna found her tears this time, but it was okay. The workers around dissolved into smears of gray in her vision, and she had stopped listening the words he was saying, instead focusing on its gentleness. She knew that she was wetting his shoulder and there was soot on her clothes, but it was okay. He held her tighter, clinging to her just as she clung to him.

Anna let herself sob until she was nothing but a blubbering red mess. Still, he didn't complain, trying to give her all the care and love that her poor heart had been missing for such a long time, wrapped in a simple embrace.

* * *

**District 10**

After the Games end, it was usually acceptable for the stylists to take a few days to repair the damage wrought on their precious new victor. Never mind that the child has just travelled from Hell and back - let's just make sure those eyebrows were trimmed properly.

Nonetheless, that didn't mean that nothing else happened outside the Games. In this point, the scheduled event was the 'behind-the-scenes' event of transporting the bodies of fallen tributes back to their homes.

The coffins were often cheap, opaque wooden boxes, nailed shut and glued from the inside. Many times, tributes were killed by the most gruesome means possible - boiling, poison, stabbing, or in this case, freezing. Considering how sadistic the Capitol usually was, this could actually be considered a mercy.

As per Capitol regulations, funerals for fallen tributes were quiet, mellowed affairs. Loved ones were allowed to carry and accompany the coffins down to the burial site. Occasionally, a hymn or two were permitted, as were moments of grieving and farewells, but never were there any eulogies. Reminiscing was strictly forbidden, for such a move would humanize the tribute: make him or her seem more than a Capitol puppet. No, the body was chucked in a hole, the tombstone was erected and everyone went home. Funerals would not be sites for inciting rebellion, and such services were not rights but privileges that the Capitol had been kind enough to bestow.

Having been a mentor to so many children and having lost that many in number, Bunnymund had mostly abstained from attending such ceremonies for the sake of his own sanity. But this year, here he was, shuddering in the snow, clutching at the package in his coat as he watched the solemn vigil a mother and her child held over the humble were no others at the grave site - just the undertaker, his crew and a few Peacekeepers watching from a distance.

It wasn't just the guilt that disturbed him. Bunnymund had so much of that that he had learnt how to bury it in the depth of his soul and wear a gruff sourness for cover. No, if anything, it was fear. More than once, an angry parent had wrecked their sorrow on him, and he wouldn't be surprised if this family chose to do the same. Caught between wanting to show respect and granting space for mourning, he didn't quite know what to do. But despites his misgiving, he chose to stay. He was determined to help this family, and the package was hopeful a key to that.

The burial was quick, despite the thick snowdrift and the frozen ground. The undertakers were an efficient lot, having had so much practice day in, day out. With barely a farewell, they left the mother and daughter alone. The mother laid a few costly roses over by the cold tombstone, trying to bring some warmth to the gloomy granite. However, when it came to the child's turn to scatter the blooms, Bunnymund noted that there was much reluctance in her expression – no, _defiance_ even. Words were exchanged between child and mother, before the daughter tore away from her mother, sprinting off. The roses spilled from her hand, becoming splashes of scarlet against the crystalline snow.

"Emma!" The mother's call was unheeded by the girl. The little brunette ran straight past Bunnymund, hardly giving him a glance. The woman did chase her down a little way, but eventually gave up when the small figure disappeared into the distance. Letting out a sigh, she bent down, picking up the fallen flowers, muttering to herself.

Though he often seemed rough and surly, Bunnymund was a gentleman at heart. At once, he stooped down to help collect the stalks, staying wary of the thorns. Just as the woman straightened herself up, he held the roses out to her.

"Thank you," she said, taking them from his hands, bundling them up with the others. "They're too expensive to waste. Flowers are such a-" she bore a bitter smile "-luxury at times like these."

"Not a problem, Mrs. Overland." The name slipped out unintentionally, and its use told the brunette woman that their collision was not coincidental. A hasty examination by her plain, but surprisingly bright eyes, told her what she needed to know.

"You're that victor from twenty or so years ago - Aster Bunnymund, isn't it?" She didn't need to mention how else she knew his name.

Bunnymund didn't quite know what to reply, so he merely uttered, "Yes."

Her expression didn't change, yet for some reason he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. And it wasn't from cold. "Well, Mr. Bunnymund, would you give me a moment with my son?"

He felt himself flushing from embarrassment. And he _never_ flushed! "Well, erm, certainly."

"But you don't need to go if you don't want to," she said, just as he spun away. "I'm grateful that you've bothered to come at all."

So Bunnymund waited in silence as Mrs. Overland arranged the roses around her son's tombstone. She kneeled by its side, staring forlornly at the freshly engraved letters. Then, she rose to her feet, brushing the snow from her dress. To the stranger in her company, she said, "Would you walk with me?"

So the two strolled through the woods, barely a word exchanged. Before long, they had stepped back to the frost-covered pastures, cordoned off by the fences. Animals had been carted off to the barns for the winter, though an occasional herder would lead a flock out for exercise.

Bunnymund did have a reason for coming to see Mrs. Overland, but in her cold company, he wasn't quite sure of how to broach the subject without seeming too callous. So he decided to start with a simpler topic. "Pardon if it is rude, but I can't help but notice how distraught your daughter was."

"She's in denial." Mrs. Overland's reply was brisk, almost snappish and unfeeling. The elder man accompanying her eyed the woman with bemusement, but she paid no attention. "She's been since yesterday. Did you see the riot at the square?"

"I didn't, but I've heard about it." In fact, he had learnt straight from the horse's mouth. Right after arriving back from the Capitol the night before, Bunnymund had gone straight to the healer's. The severity of North's gun wound was fortunately had been greatly exaggerated, and the old man hadn't lost the slightest of his energy and jolliness, though his description of the riot itself was sober. Full recover was expected in a few weeks, so no one was really worried.

"She was there," Mrs. Overland went on, oblivious to Bunnymund's own inner thoughts. "From what I understood, she might have even started it." She clucked her tongue sharply. "Reckless girl - talking to the Peacekeepers like that!" She let out a sigh, full of both exasperation and reproach. "But I'm not all that surprised. Jack would have done something just as foolish. Impulsiveness runs in the family."

Bunnymund, having had experiences of such, agreed.

By the time they had arrived to the Overland household, they had managed to converse on several topics, but not about Jack and not even _sniffing_ the topic that he needed to tackle. So at the doorway, where it was customary for them to part, Bunnymund asked, slightly hesitant, "Actually, there's something to I need to discuss with you, Mrs.-"

"Just Abigail would do," she cut him off, waiting expectantly.

He coughed, glancing around. Houses around District 10 tended to spread apart, except those nearer the town center. But he wasn't just afraid of the neighbors overhearing this - there were more dangerous ears."I'd preferred to talk about it indoors, if you don't mind."

She seemed that she was about to inquire for reasons, but decided against it and held the door open. "Come on in."

Having lived the last twenty years of life in his large victor's manor, the little wood cottage felt rather cramp. Nonetheless, the tall victor made no comment as he stepped in, even though he needed to hunch himself to avoid hitting the rafters with his head. The relief on his face when he was given a seat couldn't be hidden though.

"I'd offer you tea, but we don't have any at the moment," Mrs. Overland told him, as she took a place across his at the dining table. Her blunt honesty again was unexpected in conversation, but then, what should she be ashamed of? She was a single mother obligated to spend out of her current means for the funeral of the family breadwinner. Her circumstances were pitiful, but they were not her fault, nor that of her family. It was the Capitol's.

Well, he was here to fix that. From his coat, Bunnymund drew out the package that he had meant to deliver. Not quite sure how to explain it, he slid it over to her, hoping somehow she would understand. The woman glanced curiously at the package, before slowing unwrapping it. District 10's sullen victor swallowed as he watched her visage transform from one of incredulity to displeasure. Mrs. Overland roughly folded the paper back together, shoving the package back to him. Her gaze was an intense one - almost frightening, surprisingly - and Bunnymund was taken aback how much her son had resembled her in such moments.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Bunnymund," she began, teetering precariously between politeness and anger, "but my daughter and I will not be the subjects of charity. I may not be the most capable person, but neither am I that incompetent to-"

"Whoa! No! This isn't-" Bunnymund scrambled for the words to avoid having his head ripped off "-this isn't mine."

She cocked a brow at him, confounded. "Then-"

"It's your son's." There. He dropped the bomb. Now he just had to pray that it wouldn't explode.

Mrs. Overland took a second to absorb this, before sitting herself up straight. The initial fury melted into disbelief. She pulled the package nearer to her, gingerly unwrapping its contents once again. "But the amounts- Jack would never have the ability to-"

"Sponsorship money. Even after he-" there were no tactful words he could use here, so Bunnymund just left a deliberate gap "-There was a lot unspent cash lying in the account. According to protocol, the remainder usually goes straight to the Capitol's pockets. Naturally, I thought that'd be a waste. So I got a 'friend' to help me extract a little in secret." He nodded to the package. "What you have there is less than a twelfth of it."

Mrs. Overland, despite her cool demeanor before, was quite capable of being astounded. She stared down at the stack of notes, appearing almost at a loss. "It's more than two years' worth of wages."

"Well, don't spend it all at once," Bunnymund attempted to joke, but the serious undertones were not missed. If the impoverished Overlands suddenly begun installing marble tiles and silk curtains in their humble cottage, it would raise suspicions. Stealing was stealing, and if what he had done was ever discovered, the trail would come back to him. Though he was getting older every day, Bunnymund still liked keeping his skin on his back.

Mrs. Overland, fortunately, understood this. "I'll be discrete. Don't worry about that." He could almost see the numbers floating around her head as she started to methodically divide the bills.

Seeing that she was quite comfortable with sorting it all out and that reminding her of her son was not so suicidal, Bunnymund rose from his seat, careful not to knock his head against to the ceiling this time. As he prepared to see himself out, he paused, facing the mistress of the house once more. He was literally biting back the words, not wanting to break the silence, yet he couldn't leave them unsaid. "I know that the money won't be able to compensate for the loss of your son, but I reckoned in this way, well, Jack could still look for y'all."

The woman froze, the fingers flitting through the bills halted in their places. Slowly, as if waking from a placid dream back in a bitter world, her brown eyes turned to him and Bunnymund was amazed at depths of sorrow behind the steeliness. It then occurred to him that as a widow, it was not the first time that she had faced great loss. That however did not mean that it hurt any less.

There were no doubts about her sincerity. "I know the risks you took in bringing this, so thank you." She said nothing about Jack.

Bunnymund nodded, before turning the knob and stepping back to snow.

* * *

**Capitol**

**Game Centre**

Flanking him were two Peacekeeper guards, nothing more alarming than usual. However, Pitch was on tenterhooks here all. Even while marching through the richly ornamented hall with his 'escorts', he felt as if the gilded walls were pressing in on him. He was no stranger to the feeling of entrapment, and he disliked it very much.

Without so much as a word, his escorts halted. The dazzling ebony-lined office doors were pulled open. Being Capitol-bred, Pitch didn't thank them, striding into the hall hurriedly. At once, something struck him as odd. During previous summons, he had always been led directly to President Lotso himself. Here, he was standing alone in an empty study. The ominous '_vrooooommmfff!_' behind him finally let him put two and two together.

He spun around, wrapping his hands around the polished knobs and yanking at them. As feared, they were locked shut. He was trapped. Entombed. Confined for punishment. Well, wasn't that just lovely.

Going out the way he came in was clearly not much of an option, so Pitch decided to examine the room. Perhaps something else would lead to an escape.

_Or …_ perhaps not. The revolver on the study desk didn't leave very much to imagination.

He drew towards it, peering contemptuously at the metallic weapon. He had never been very fond of guns in general. While often practical in use, he found them crude, artless weapons. Unlike many others, the rapidness of guns itself gave very little room for the personalization, in terms of technique. There was nothing particularly delightful in watching bullets zipping across space and ripping holes into bodies. It was too fast, too mechanistic. Like many Headgamers before him, he had never allowed firearms in any of his Games. It was a tool for execution, not battle.

Pitch dropped it back onto the table, inwardly disconcerted. He then caught sight of another item just next to it - a single sheet of paper. Carefully, he lifted it up to discover that something was written on its flip side. So he turned it over, and there it was printed, _"WHO IS THE MAN IN THE MOON?"_

It was as if some kind of restraint in him broken, because he began to laugh. Hard. He couldn't help it. This was ridiculous. This wasn't about the Game itself, like he had thought. No - this was something much, much bigger.

Pitch chortled again, clutching his sides as he did. He knew that there were cameras all over the room watching him, waiting for his answers. But they weren't getting anything out of him. Whipping around, he spoke out loud, "You honestly think I'm with the Rebellion?"

When he set the paper back onto the desk, he realized that there's a stylus and an inkwell located so conveniently at the corner of the desk. So he grabbed the stylus up, plonking unceremoniously in the liquid. Barely taking a moment to dry it, he smashed the nib down on the blank bottom half of the sheet. Not caring about the blotches created or the untidiness, he scratched out a name, but not the one that they wanted.

Holding it up like a signboard with both hands, he announced quite calmly, "This, my good comrades, is the correct person to be asking."

Deciding that the display had been sufficient, he tossed the sheet away, giving his inky fingers a look of disgust before shrugging it off. He then scooped the revolver up into his hand, facing the closed doors. Peering into the barrel before fitting his fingers over the trigger, he murmured thoughtfully, "Now how do you use this..."

* * *

**Capitol**

**Lucky Cat Bar**

_"Let's see if I got this right. You feel as if ...you shouldn't have won."_

_"Yes."_

_"Why's that?"_

_"I didn't earn it. I grew up learning that being a victor was the ultimate achievement any citizen attain. But I didn't earn this title on my own. Hiccup was the one who made the sacrifice. If it wasn't for him, I'd have never won. He…he should have won. Not me. Definitely not me."_

Eugene tried to ignore the interview, focusing his energies on the chessboard before him. After a moment of brooding, he decided to move the queen two squares forward.

This was a foolish move, since this resulted in that queen being knocked off the board by the white rook, which promptly landed a final checkmate for the white player.

"You really play for keeps, don't you?" Eugene grouchily muttered to his opponent. The chameleon grunted, hopping onto the wooden board. With his tail, he began to systematically rearrange the pieces back to their original positions, preparing for yet another battle of wits.

Without meaning to, the man found his eyes going back to the television screen, where the Capitol's latest victor sat across Mike Wazowkski. As a career, her win shouldn't have really been a surprise. But in a cast such as that of the 74th Hunger Games, the victor could not be made obvious until the end itself arrived. An archer such talent could have easily won. Or a boy with a dragon. Or a tech-genius. Or a pretty boy with that many sponsors. Or an Ice Queen. Or a mutant with healing hair.

He gazed back down to the chessboard and began to help his companion in moving the pieces back to their squares. The bar was largely empty, too much of the crowd having raced off to the city centre to watch the Victor's interview live. Even the bartender seemed oddly absent somehow, possibly leaving the counter to view the show from a private screen. That left Eugene waiting alone with Pascal. He couldn't have planned it better himself.

Well, okay, he could have factored in the possibility of him not paying attention. Though he usually prided himself in being a rather observant fellow, Eugene's mind was distracted this evening. He barely registered the sound of twisting hinges that came with the entrance door swinging open, nor did he hear the sound of army boots stepping hurriedly on the floorboards toward him. It was only when Pascal made a squeak of surprise and blended himself into the checkered board did the young man glance up.

"Evening, Rider."

As the most popular man in the Capitol (or at least, the most popular after the President himself), Flynn Rider did know everyone worth knowing. The Head of Panem's Secret Police was definitely someone worth knowing.

"Sergeant," he greeted, betraying none of his surprise or his anxiety. Reclining in the plush dining chair with carefully forced casualness, he inquired, "What brings someone of your calibre to a dowdy pub like this?"

"Business." Without asking for permission, Sergeant Calhourn dropped herself on the chair opposite. It was then that Eugene realized that instead of donning her usual uniform or armor, she was dressed in nondescript clothes, not unlike the ordinary Capitol citizen - s_ans _the fantastic make-up, of course. A hat had been drawn over her head, and her coat collars pulled high, just below her cheeks. "I've been told you're to extract me."

Eugene furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Let me put it this way-" there was an edge in her voice, but more from tenseness rather than any actual anger "-get me the Hell out'ta this city before Lotso chops my head off."

He couldn't help but be stunned by this order. "Excuse me?"

"Really, Rider? You're going to play it this way?" Calhourn let out a frustrated growl, one of her hand balling into a fist. Eugene began to edge himself away from the table. The Sergeant was notorious for her use of violence, after all, and better be safe than sorry. But she didn't punch him. Instead, she stared at him, her fury turning into incredulity. "Oh, _my blasted brandished bloomin'_ \- it's really remarkable how _little_ you've worked out , given the length of our correspondence. What's in that head of yours? Feathers and calomine?" She pulled a face of disgust, almost spitting, "And to think the entire communication system rests on _you_."

Eugene creased his brow, asking cautiously, "Are you saying that-"

"-I'm the Insider, you worthless, brainless git! Now, are you going to help me get out of the city or not?"

Though thrown off by this assertion, Eugene chose the safe route first, just in case. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, son'ava ash-eating, gall-gibbered -" As she cursed, Calhourn grabbed hold of the chessboard, lifting it up. Pascal squealed, pushing pass the wooden pieces and scampering onto Eugene's arm, hiding in the folds of his collar. The young brunette himself was suitably startled, his eyes widening into saucers as his ankles lifted from the floorboards, prepared to flee just as she smashed the board and the pieces off against the pub wall. It was a miracle that the bartender hadn't come running back in.

Taking a moment to calm down, the Sergeant began again, "Look, I was the one in the Game Centre. I diverted the cameras from noticing what the Three kid's little adventure. I tried to help your blonde friend - honest." There was a flinch from Eugene, but everything reverted back to impassivity from there on. "I launched the Endgame, as planned. Of course,-" her voice fell several decibels, the uneasiness in her manner rising in turn "-the Capitol knows that there's something wrong with the Games. They're scouring the place for someone to blame, so if you don't mind, I'd like to leave before anyone works out that I've framed Black in my place."

Eugene scrutinized her, trying to decide whether or not to believe. It could be a ploy, for all he knew, designed to trap him and other Rebel agents. And she _was_ the model Capitol patriot. On the other hand, his sharp eyes were quick to note how her steady hands, calloused from years of weapon-wielding, trembled occasionally. The great Sergeant seemed unusually nervous.

Seeing that he was still unmoved, Calhourn added, "I really did try, Rider, but there wasn't much anyone outside the Games could do."

He didn't need to ask what she was talking about, and he probably gave it away by how he fiercely stared down at the table..

"Trust me. I've lost … _people_ before. I know how important she is to you."

He made his decision. Shooting a glance at the still unattended bar, he gestured to the soldier. "Follow me."

He left Pascal on the table, with a paying card and strict instructions to tap it on the register only at eight. Bars weren't that well-surveillanced, and Wasabi had already seen to it that any footage from this area would be mysteriously difficult to obtain. Eugene - or rather, Flynn Rider, as he was required to be for the situation - and his furtive companion in the long overcoat snuck out through the backdoor: one that the former was quite familiar with for quick exits during unpleasant drinking sessions. Him strolling in the lead and her following swiftly behind, both headed for another building just a block away.

"I thought you were kicked off the Game Council this year," he commented in passing as both of them pushed through the door.

"I had contacts in the Council. They let me muck the system from the outsidd, until Lotso himself sent me to audit Black. Everything was pretty easy from then." Seeing his alarmed face, she added, "Don't worry, I've taken care of them. No one else knows about our arrangement."

He tried not to notice how her hardened eyes briefly fell to the pistol strapped to her belt.

Upon entering the building and heading to the second floor, it appeared that they've arrived at a middle-income Capitol home, adorned with simple, brightly-colored plastic furniture and glittering star-shaped lights from above. Flynn didn't stop to admire the décor though, heading straight for the kitchen. This part of the house was essentially a dead end, with no other doors other than the one they had entered by. The sergeant shot him a skeptical look.

"You really need to relax, y'know," he said crossly in response. "I know what I'm doing."

Flynn went straight up to the refrigerator door and yanked it open. The contents were not very remarkable, just some vegetables, fruits and assorted beverages.

Calhourn snorted.

Flynn simply slammed the door shut. He then felt along the edge wall near the refrigerator, looking for the little panel he knew was hidden on it. Once he found it, he pressed on the flap. It sprung open, revealing a small card reader - a card which he was fortunate enough to have. When he removed it from his pocket, he heard an exclamation of incredulity from Calhourn. She would recognize it, for only a select group in the Capitol could possess such a key.

"Where did you get that?" she demanded as Flynn swiped the card in the reader.

"Oh, I just picked it up somewhere," he answered with his signature smirk, only for it to fade when he remembered that Calhourn might hit him if she was sufficiently irritated. He pocketed the card again, then pulled the refrigerator door open. The plastic shelves and the food stuffs had all disappeared, replaced by a shaft, leading to a dimly-lit tunnel. Beckoning the Sergeant to follow him, Flynn stepped through the doorway.

Under the Capitol there were many, many layers. Some were homes, but more often than not, they consisted sewers, barracks, storage areas and travel tubes. As of now, both of them stood in a transport tunnel – n ot one for public use, but for the transfer of military goods, like arms, explosives and even Peacekeepers, wherever they were need most in the silver city.

After the doorway was closed, Flynn led to the soldier to the sedan. He had it stationed here a few hours ago in preparation for the extraction. Before he could say anything, Calhorn had already gone straight up to the vehicle, yanked the door open and slid into the driver's seat. With a huff of annoyance, Flynn grudging opened the other door and took the spot adjacent to hers.

"Where to?" she asked while he strapped on the seatbelt.

"Just straight ahead for now," he answered. "I'll tell you when to turn."

Calhourn started up the vehicle and soon they were speeding down the tunnel, the only source of light being from headlights. Eugene allowed a few minutes of silence as they zoomed ahead, but when it became apparent that Calhourn had no intention of starting a conversation, he took initiative. Clearing his throat pointedly, he asked, "So, aren't you going to explain yourself?"'

The soldier frowned. "Explain what?"

"I don't know," Flynn made a show of shrugging. "Maybe how on earth _you_ of all people end up being the insider? I mean, you've served the Peacekeeping Corp. for three years, five in Special Forces, the Game Council intermittently and you've been Head of the Capitol Underground for the last two. Let's not forget – you've Lotso's favorite. Oh, take a right here."

"Didn't know you kept such a profile on me," Calhourn remarked snappishly as the vehicle swerved along the bend.

"I didn't, but I do hear about you" He took a second to ponder. "None of it suggests rebellious sentiments in the slightest."

The low rumble of the engine was all that permeated the space between them. It seemed that the Sergeant would hold her stubborn tongue for the rest of the journey, but finally she asked, "Do you know who Doctor Brad Scott is?"

Flynn pondered a while, before admitting, "No."

"Find out, and you'll know why."

In accordance to Flynn's newer instructions, they pulled up at three-way junction. He pushed open his door but just Calhourn was about to do the same, he told her, "Oh, not you. The hangar's around three miles more. The black F037 has a key on the seat. Remember to switch on the stealth thingamabob before flying. "

"Where are you going?" she asked, leaning herself over the wheel to meet his eyes.

"Flynn Rider pays his bill the Lucky Car Bar at eight. He arrives fashionably late at the victor's party at eight o'five, witnessed by dozens of people. Meanwhile, Sergeant Calhourn escapes from the Capitol somewhere in between seven-fifty and eight o'five." He handed the white card through the window. "Good luck, Sergeant."

Taking the card in one gloved hand, Calhourn raised the other to her forehead. "Panem Forever."

Eugene was naturally was taken aback. Such salutes were practiced by the Capitol military personnel, so perhaps it was nothing more than a force of habit on the soldier's part. Nonetheless, it didn't escape him that in the eyes of someone as severe as the Sergeant, perhaps all this was fundamentally patriotic anyway.

So he returned it with a simple two-fingered salute of his own. "Panem Forever."

With that, they parted. On record though, it never happened. As it must be, a scape goat was needed, and on the star-studded sergeant would the blame of mysterious events in the 74th Hunger Games fall. While attentions were trained on capturing her, the Capitol's radar would turn away from the people of the districts, keeping the rebellion within from their sight a little longer.

Meanwhile, one of those rebellion agents would sullenly turn away, finding one of the smaller exits. Through it, he would find himself stepping into a humongous wardrobe that he had discovered during his escapades. Flynn Rider wouldn't have time to change clothes, so he streams out, going down a corridor, taking a few twists and turns before entering into the party hall. The richly-garbed company that had met him was delighted. Drinks were slipped in his hands and imbecilic twittering was exchanged. He smiled and laughed, as he was obliged to, but he decided to focus on the drink instead. Now that his part was over, it was time that he drowned himself into insensibility before that image of her still, breathless body haunted him again.

* * *

**District 5**

If the waves of riots sprouting all over the district were the tremors, then Elinor knew that she was sitting on a volcano here.

Not literally, of course. She was actually seated in the Mayor's office, surrounded by holographic screen showing the events in the various districts. The death-row in District 10 had been pulled out onto the main square - suspected initiators of the riots, it seemed – and methodically, executions were carried out. There had been pockets of explosions along District 8, but nothing very severe. District 11 was still on heavy security, it seemed, with various individuals led to the stocks every hour or so.

Things weren't so different in District 5. The riots had come to nothing but punishment all around. Instigators were pulled into grey vans and were never heard of again. Major participants were sent for flogging and executions, depending on the extent of their involvement. Workload had been doubled and Peacekeepers enforced them harshly. The days following the Hunger Games had all been ugly ones.

This was what she had feared. No, this was what she had _known_. But no one listened to her warnings, and still no one would listen now.

He didn't tell her, but Elinor didn't need superhuman intelligence to know that the 'council meeting' Fergus was holding downstairs wasn't a council meeting at all. The people gathered in dining hall consisted leaders of the riffraff, the smaller towns and the working class. Even with the lingering fear overhead, the rebellious spirit had yet to die. On the contrary, the harsh response only ended up stoking the embers, and now the powder keg was on the verge of going off. All they needed was a spark.

It's too soon. Much too soon. She should march Macintosh, Macguffin and Dingwall out of the manor, end these foolish talks of freedom and better futures. To stir up such hopes would be suicide for District 5.

The telephone on the desk rang, so the woman sitting there picked up. Sighing heavily, she pressed the receiver to her ear, speaking hoarsely, "Dunbroch Manor. Elinor Dunbroch speaking."

"It's a fine moon up tonight, isn't it, Mrs. Dunbroch?" the voice that she heard was crisp but soft, disguising any abilities to recognize it.

Elinor's eyes momentarily flickered out of the window, out to the sky. It was a pale yellow of a crescent, burning in a sea of deep blue.

"Well, it's as fine as it can be expected," was all she replied.

"I'm glad that you approve," the voice cheerily answered. "Oh, if it's of any interest to you, the Cassiopeia is probably up tonight. We'll let you know if anything else turns up."

"Excellent. Thank you." With that, the call was ended. Elinor replaced the phone and her shoulders relaxed. For the first time since three weeks, she could take a moment of peace. Just a moment only, of course - there was so much else to worry about. But she couldn't help the tears of relief from spilling down her cheeks, though her decorum led her to hurriedly wiping them off. From the bottom of heart, she did give thanks, though she could never share the good news with any other.

It was a constellation that could be observed from a naked eye, and though near her fifties, Elinor did have perfect eyesight. Hence, she could tell that Cassiopeia was certainly not at all up in the sky as the speaker had said. Any learned listener of the conversation would think the exchange just a pot of nonsense. However, those who understood the code would recall that this particular costellation consisted five stars, strung up together in a crooked line spelling 'W'.

Five stars.

Five out of five.

Her daughter was alive.

* * *

**S/N:**

**I didn't count wrong. It is five out of five. Work out what that means yourself.**

**If you are confused by the whole Flynn using the card on the refrigerator door part, I suggest you watch Pixar's **_**Monster Inc.**_** Knowing how this works may important later. **

**Dr. Brad Scott is not an OC. If you've watch Wreck-it-Ralph, you'd realize that you've seen him before. **

**Thus ends The Odds of Five. **

**Up Next: THE SEQUEL (tentatively the title is 'The Wrath of Five' but I'm still thinking about it. Suggestions welcome.)**

**This one would be a mix between Catching Fire and Mockingjay. I will put it out one important thing - there will probably not be a 75th Hunger Games/ Third Quarter Quell and the story will be jumping pretty quickly into the rebellion war - which may actualyl be quite long. There will be some new characters from more Disney/Dreamworks films, but I will try to put a lid on the extras to avoid confusion. **

**Other than the five films of the ROTBFD, characters from the movies **_**Big Hero 6, Wreck-it-Ralph, Monster Inc**_**. and **_**Toy Story 3 **_**will definitely appear. On the other hand, whether characters from the other **_**Toy Story **_**films, from**_** Kungfu Panda**_** Franchise, **_**The Croods**_**, **_**Inside Ou**_**t (humanised, not in your brain),**_** Zootopia**_** or **_**Moana**_** (these two are really tentative - they haven't been released after all) would appear at all is still under contemplation. If you do want any of these films (besides the ones already in The Odds of Five) to be in the sequel, do mention it and I'll take that in account for my decision.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**This story is over! Whoohoo!**

**Or Boohoo - but there's still the sequel!**

**Because I need some time to plan the sequel (so that all my foreshadowing doesn't get too messed up), it may be some time (maybe a week ...or a month... or two) before its first chapter gets released. Feel free to read any other of my stories (all my advertisements were in the last chapter), or crush my ego and read all the other great stories outline. For some good ROTBFD, check out George J. Valtom's The Gathering of the Four, StarKnight 2.0's Forever (Warning: Jarida content) or Furiyan's Of Ghost and Valkyries (Warning: Rated). Other great crossovers include Caterall's The Hero of Arendelle City (Frozen focused), SaturnXK's Two Hours till Midnight and TheDizBizz's The Four Seasons, and lots of others I can't post here. **

**Alternatively, you could leave this site and get a life.**

**...You're right. What could I possibly be thinking suggesting something so preposterous?**

**Mailbox for Guests:**

**PanicFan: I suggest reading the last three paragraphs of this chapter and deciding again.**

**Riverfall: Thank you very much for following this story through and I'm glad you enjoyed it. You like Tooth's death?...how could you...(actually, I kinda like it myself.) I will try to update Don't Think About Elephants while procrastinating on the sequel - once I get over the stupid problem I have with the former story. It's literally to do with plane flights. Hehe.**

**Guest (chap 12 on Dec 23): Congratulations! If you ever see this, I mean...But yeah. Congrats!**

**Guest (chap 1 on Jan 3): Dear person who probably would never read this story (see your own review), since you haven't read till this chapter yet, you can't understand how I could indeed make Jack die (fyi, I am sorry that the story is spoiled for you). And note, this is the Hunger Games story, not a Disney movie (and Jack's Dreamworks, so Disney Laws obviously don't apply to him. Well, I can't explain myself out of Rapunzel's eventual demise I suppose...). Have a nice day! (...why did I write this if he's/she's not gonna read it...unless! He/she does read it.)**

**Sometimes I don't understand myself. **

**Well, so long people. The sequel would be announced on this story, so just follow it if you want updates. Until that, see you later. **


	48. Announcement and Making Of

**Hi guys! This chapter is mostly just to announce the fact that (drumroll) … the sequel has arrived. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present:**

**The Guardian Games: The Wrath of Five**

**So... the name wasn't the most original. The prologue's up on in my profile. Check it out! Yay!**

**Because I refuse to post a chapter purely for an announcement, I've decided to fill this chapter with my 'Making of The Odds of Five' segment. I did want to post it on my profile instead, but I figured that there might be too many spoilers for any future readers of this story if I did it that way. It's more for personal reflection than anything, but I figured some of you might be interested and…I just really wanted to write it out. Make me feel like one of those Hollywood Producers who talk on the Blu-ray extras – you know, but without getting paid for it. **

**You don't have to read it if you don't want to, but I really, really hope that you would. _REALLY. REAAAALLLY. PLEASE._**

**Okay, I'm done.**

* * *

Making of The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

* * *

Part I: Inception

I think it's pretty obvious that this story was not an original idea.

I kind of fell in love with American animated films during my early teen years and after I discovered fanfiction, the fandoms I patronize the most ended up being animated stuff. I love Disney films best, but I have a huge admiration of Dreamworks films too, so the Rise of the Brave Tangled (sometimes, Frozen) Dragons concept was I got sucked into easily.

If you plough through enough ROBTFD stories, you'll discover that they come in two common forms – the 'high school' type and the 'Big Four team versus the world' type. The High School one is a bit overdone, though I'm sure there are the decent ones, while the Big Four team can vary from fantastic to meh. Usually, these two are used because: 1. The team consists teenagers (hence high school) 2. The team consists of very remarkable individuals of unique powers, personalities and achievements. The best stories exploit these, and that's why the Hunger Games AU is so terribly clever. The mains are all teenagers, thus they fit the basic qualifications of the tributes. Moreover, in a game of survival, all of them are being pushed to their limits, and that's when their abilities and characteristics can shine.

For a long time, the ROBTFD/THG AU has been floating around through artwork, but the literary material for this particular branch was sparse and whatever there was available was often dissatisfactory. Without really meaning to, I began developing my own ideas on how a ROBTFD/THG could work. I wanted to be interesting and thrilling as good as the THG books, or better. I wanted a story that I would read, so thus in the fire forge of the mind burst forth _The Odds of Five_.

That really does sound stupid when I say it aloud.

* * *

Part II: Story Design

Frozen was the most recent movie out of the lot, so I worked with that first. I drafted Elsa and Anna immediately into District 12 because of their clear parallel to Katniss and Prim. Every other THG AU for this fandom has pretty much done this, but one thing that was clear to me from the start - Elsa does not carry a bow, nor does she have a clear romantic interest like Katniss does (Other THG fics have often placed Jack in Peeta's role - I'll explain why I didn't do this later). This is where the other characters are strung in: Merida is the archer and Hiccup's sorta like Peeta (very, very 'sorta' only), but obviously, the roles that the book can provide is insufficient for all the characters.

Rather than choosing to focus on only three out of five of the movies, I went like - "let's make my job harder!" - and went all out, pulling in the original movies with the THG material. Hiccup and Merida, as children of leaders in their movies, were stuffed into privileged homes of the Mayors. Elsa and Anna went through similar experiences, but since their parents were dead for most of the film and Mayor-hood wasn't hereditary like Kingship, they became suddenly impoverished orphans, with Elsa battling her powers that must stay hidden. There were some personal embellishments, like making Jack a shepherd and most prominently, Rapunzel as an orphan (Gothel was far too excellent a character to be wasted in a mother role) but I hope I did do my best to respect the original Disney/Dreamwork (DD) movies, especially when it came to the Games itself.

It's very egotistical, but I read my own stories a lot (if you think about it, I did write them for myself...so justified?). Because of that, I tried to write things that I'd want to read. I liked twists, so I experimented with weird ideas: making Hans and Elsa fake a love story while Hans is supposedly Anna's boyfriend; letting Rapunzel battle a dying rival that was accidentally healed with her own hair; making Hiro responsible for Hiccup's injury though both of them are very alike in ability and mindset; make Astrid and Merida share a rivalry, in which both take turns in being the good guys and bad guys; Jack getting his heart frozen (haha, this one's so obvious); making Toothless a muttation and lots of other stuff. Because I already had some plans to make a sequel, I had to be super careful about the characters I chose as tributes, because if I brought them into the Games, there was a high chance I couldn't bring them out. So if you're wondering why Pitch isn't a tribute, that's why (but he'd have made an interesting Career alongside Gothel.)

There was another thing that all crossovers have to: inter-movie character interaction. I wanted to see people of different films work off each other, and it is interesting as a study. Hiccup and Rapunzel can empathize with each other well - both too gentle and too intelligent to be caught in Games like these. Merida and Vanellope are just the perfect tomboys team, rebellious and impulsive. Elsa and Jack aren't the most exciting pair, but it's a good contrast when the two split to other alliances.

At the same time, I wanted to keep as much of canonical relationships in tact as possible. In many ROTBFD stories, the mistake often ignoring or downplaying the role of secondary characters in the main story. I do realize that this is difficult to do when there are already five main characters, but if you want to pay tribute to a movie, you have to pay tribute to the WHOLE movie as much as possible – so secondary characters are a must for me. To be honest, it wasn't always easy to handle, especially after Chapter 13 on where the focus is on the Games itself, but I think it was a worthwhile choice to give screen time for the other guys. Merida's relationship with her mother is both a source of inspiration and guilt throughout the Games, almost like Elsa's is with Anna. Jack's sister and mother had barely any screen time in the film and they even seem irrelevant to bring up at times, so I had to establish that Jack's nobility and his 'guardian' behavior was due to his relationship with his sister, because while he does want to go home to her, he also doesn't want to Emma's brother to become a monster. Hiccup's relationship with his father and Astrid are probably some of my favorite parts in the story – with good reason, since I like writing angst. Rapunzel and Gothel's relationship is tricky, since I demoted Gothel to non-mother status. In order to make it believable, I did have to make up a suitable backstory for Gothel on why she had such a 'maternal' attitude towards Rapunzel. I'll admit that I didn't handle Rapunzel's side that well (why trust a crazy killer?), but in my defense, she did only save Gothel because Gothel had saved her many times before and at that point of time (see Chap 35), her allies were either presumed dead (Jack) or having abandoned her (Hiccup). So I guess it was adequate, but it's up to you to decide whether you're convinced.

One of the biggest changes I brought into this universe was the armbands. It came about very early on because I needed a way to save my characters. It would really suck if I had to kill all my favorites save one 'special' person, and I did want to save as many people as possible. Big Hero 6 wasn't even out when I first wrote the story, but I figured that if I could bring in a Tech genius like Hiro, I could make an extraction like the one in _Catching Fire_. The problem was that in _Catching Fire_, the extraction was done deliberately to take Katniss and Peeta to District 13, and I didn't have that kind of foundation to work with. Thus, a fantastic conspiracy explained in Chap 44 was concocted to explain why these bands existed and why an entity like the Rebellion would even bother saving some tributes when they have never done so before.

It was hard trying to fit all these bits of story together and still churn out coherent writing, but I think it was worth it. I mean, I liked reading it and some of you did, so…yay?

* * *

Part III: The Plot and Lots of Unplanned Stuff

I did try to keep my plot coherent by writing out a summary of all chapters before writing. Not everything was planned beforehand though. So writing impromptu meant I often wrote myself into traps and had to spend ages trying to figure out how to get out of them. Here's some:

1) Hans' motives were something I took ages to work out. Initially, he was supposed to bear secretly jealousy towards Elsa because, he coveted the position and the power she had as he did in the film (i.e. he wanted her throne, after all). However, because I had already started to write him as appearing to be a nice guy from Chap 3 on and not giving it up even after Chap 8, having a motivation like that would be too weak. While I do dislike non-canon ships, I decided to throw in a one-sided Helsa after all. It was the only way I could explain why Hans would act the way he does to both Anna and Elsa and his behavior changes as the Games' events change. At the end of it all, he's still the bad guy, but he's not a complete jerk. He's just a seriously jaded person and that resulted in him in making poor choices.

2) Deciding to make the story more or less Jelsa was also a problem. Being on a ROTGxFrozen site meant that there were a lot of Jelsa shippers who wanted more romance, but as only a moderate Jelsa shipper myself and not wanting to seem too unrealistic, I hesitated to plunge straight into hugs, kisses and declarations of life-long love. The choice for these two to be in separate districts was in a way supposed to reflect that – and also so that nobody could push me to pull a Katniss-Peeta-Nightshade-Berry-Blah-No. They are two people from very different worlds, which results in them being very different people. At the same time, I did want a genuine relationship to be established between Jack and Elsa - to make fight between Hans and Jack more dramatic, if nothing else. In the end, I settled with semi-attraction, semi-protectiveness, and it was a good way to show how both them overcame the mindless savagery that the Capitol would have preferred them to embrace. (I say this a lot. I know.)

3) Gothel's backstory went through four very different ones, before going back to the first version. She isn't Rapunzel's mother in this version and she's crafted to resemble Clove from the THG books; knife-throwing, brutal, strong, though I did add Gothel's charm, wit and psychotic behavior.

But her motives were a pain to decide on. In the film, there were two things that made Gothel herself - her obsession with youthful looks and her dysfunctional motherhood (think about it - she goes to quite some lengths to construct herself as a mother in Rapunzel's eyes, rather than to just be a slave owner per se.) My early drafts of Gothel's backstory gave her a younger sister called Daphne, who resembled Rapunzel in a way (hence Gothel's kindness towards her). Initially, Gothel would have murdered her sister out of jealousy, but somehow I felt this story tread was unconvincing. As more chapters got written, I began to panic that I was operating with a character that I didn't actually understand. And then it hit me in that -

4) -I could combine her story with Shen (that Peacock from Kungfu Panda 2. Humanized version, of course)! Funny thing was that Shen's backstory was not actually meant to be explained at all. The first drafts of this combination were really, really dark; there wasn't just murder but other insidious stuff that I was rather uncomfortable with it. Eventually, it struck me in that in Chapter 28 that I could simplify both their backstories to a less horrifying manner that still keeps faithful to their characters - Shen to be an ambitious, bitter martial artist with strained relations with his parents, plus a history in genocide, and Gothel to be as a mother who happens to value appearance too much.

5) Initially, Rapunzel was supposed to be one of the saved instead of Ralph, and Ralph was supposed to die. Like forever. Never to be seen again. The reason why I changed this was actually because of my brother. I told him that I was killing both Ralph and Vanellope and he didn't like that. You have to understand that my brother and I hold a special spot for _Wreck-it-Ralph_. It's one of those hidden treasures of animation that doesn't get a lot of hype, but when most people talk about it, it's usually 'Yeah, it's good.' I had a change of heart and decided to stretch logic so that Ralph could survive. There are also two other reasons why I chose to this but they're related to the sequel, so I can't write them yet.

6) Deciding the Victor was an issue. I did feel that the THG ending with the berries was unlikely to happen in this world – the 'love story' was between Hans and Elsa was doomed to fail, regardless, and constructing one for Elsa and Jack would be ridiculous. Here are some actual notes I wrote on the benefits from each person being victor. Present day notes in _{italics}_:

[Rapunzel - She gets to be the compassionate one who tries slowly to turn the world her way by becoming the star that they need to inspire them. _{Eliminated coz' SPOILER} _Get support from Flynn, and eventually connects back with her long lost parents.

Problem: _{Eliminated coz' SPOILER}_

Merida - She brings honor to her family, would undergo the Katniss crisis and get threats to her family. Starts a full-blown rebellion in her district, and lots of people get killed.

Problem: Can go into Catching fire, but defeats purpose of mash up, so this is just confusing.

Pitch wouldn't like her much. Will prob have to kill off Astrid and Hiccup…

Jack - Can become Pitch's protege… no, just stops there

Problem: I like him dead too much. So useful.

Hiccup - Brings honor to and oddly becomes a hero to his city. Likely that Toothless is spared (if not Hiccup becomes non-functional), though grieving about Astrid's death (possibly). Tries to change his father's perspective and his people's perspective, and tries to promote muttations to have some rights. Then President Snow can be Drago (yes!) _{Well, that didn't happen}_

Problem: _{Eliminated coz' SPOILER}_

Astrid - Simply becos I don't want her to die.]

See how I make decisions? Oh, Elsa would never be victor. Somehow I always knew that.

7) One of the bands getting fried was something I added only while writing the chapter itself (chapter 39), because the survivors would be far too obvious otherwise – and because logically, Gothel would have forcefully taken the armband from Rapunzel for safe keeping. I can't really apologize for this because would you continue to read from Chapter 40 if you knew the ending so early on?

…I just realized that I might have given something away. No, wait, I already gave it away during the epilogue chapter…so yeah, nothing happened.

* * *

Part IV: Where I Wrap This Up and You Finally get to Read Something Else _a.k.a._ What does it all mean?

The most important thing is coming back to the themes of The Hunger Games. It's easy just to get sucked into the events themselves - the betrayals, alliances, The Feast, the romance - but fundamentally, why did THG become such a phenomenon with its first movie?

The thing about post-apocalyptic stories (anything from Walking Dead to Maze Runner) is that they challenge our perception of humanity - under difficult circumstances, do you fight to survive, or do you fight for ideals? Do you abandon your values to keep your life? Is your life more important than that of the people around you? Could you live with yourself and does that actually matter? Why are these values so important? Which ones must be given up and what else must be clung onto? The list goes on.

Every event that happens in the Games tries to answer this in some form. When Hiccup spares Toothless and Hiro despite his upbringing and expectation, he shows autonomy in his choices as well as his sense of empathy. Merida's relationship with Vanellope (and later on even with Jack) is what kept her grounded in her moral compass, despite her own emotions and her instincts. When Jack chooses to protect Elsa, despite no benefit to himself and even after she hurts him, it shows that he chooses to do what's right in his heart rather than follow the 'common sense' – which brutal logic, really.

At the same time, Gothel chose to let Rapunzel die when she could have saved her. Hans chose to give in to his own bitterness instead of choosing love. Shen chose to hold grudges and thus lost his life. Even Hiro chose revenge during the Games when he broke Hiccup's leg when he could have given him a chance to explain. Or Merida giving in to desperation when she shot down Toothless. Or basically most of Astrid's activities before she teamed up with Hiccup.

So, coming down from the pew of loftiness, I think I can't really blame the writers of the previous ROBTFD/ THG fics that never satisfied me, because the themes of THG are immensely difficult to tackle. Even the original THG books and films didn't manage to cover it fully. In the story, I've tried to give most characters depth. Admittedly, some are outright good people (Honey Lemon never had a chance to kill anyone), some are outright bad people (Turbo, regardless of what he does, is pure horrid), but all the main characters have a little bit each. Some are driven to do bad things, some embrace it, others die while trying to overcome the brutality of the Games. While this outlook is bleak, that's actually the beauty of the Hunger Games.

Back to discussion of the themes of the Hunger Games, let's look at the protagonist of the original books – Katniss Everdeen. Small town girl, not overtly bright but quite a survivalist, talented with a bow, determined. She's not actually anyone special (I don't ever like her. Really), but why she's the protagonist at all is because she's someone we hope we can be if we were placed in the Hunger Games. She does fall for the Capitol's tricks every now, becoming a participant in the bloodshed (e.g. dropping a wasp's nest on the Careers and killing two of them, the whole Booby Trap Scenario), but she does rise above it eventually. She defies self-preservation instincts multiple times for her sister, her ally and some random dude who has a crush on her.

The great thing about it all is that you don't see humanity just in her, but also the other tributes. Like Rue who tends to Katniss wounds; Peeta's entire existence (hahaha – he's my favorite next to Haymitch); Thresh who spares Katniss; even briefly Cato when he holds a dying Clove – and he's probably the most brutal Career in those Games. The point of the Games is not about the brutality itself – it's how people respond to it. And the heroes are the ones that rise above it – to be that better person, rather than to submit to visceral desperation of self-survival.

If Katniss could overcome, how much more can our five heroes? Like it or not, much of Disney (and occasionally Dreamworks) characters are seen as childhood role models because somehow people are still stuck with the mindset that animated shows are just for children (that's rubbish by the way – except for things like _Hotel Transylvania_. Hm, yeah.) But of course, precisely because Disney characters (and some Dreamworks ones) are so goody-goody, putting them in place where conceptions of them are challenged is always interesting. Would they overcome the brutality? Probably, but not always. The best Disney/Dreamworks characters are usually the relatable ones, and relatable ones are usually those who are more realistic. They'll make mistakes, they'll slip up, but they'll try again. Maybe we'll never be as courageous as Hiccup to befriend the enemy, or maybe we'll never Merida's gumption to amend our own mistakes, or leave self-pity to answer a higher calling like Jack did, or find courage to get out of the comfort zone like Rapunzel did, or break out of personal fears like Elsa did, but trying is all part of character development. And the best stories all need character development, after all.

* * *

**So…Thanks for reading that! And here's the real reason why I wanted you to read this. Drumroll please...**

**The Secret Chapter! Congratulations! You found it!**

**This not an extra chapter, or a one-shot even. It's an essential part of the story. You must read this before you start on The Wrath of Five.**

**Keep going.**

* * *

**Capitol Undergrounds**

His name was Randall Boggs.

By Capitol standards, he was considered a rather average looking person. He had undergone rather extreme forms of plastic surgery, giving his face a scaly sort of texture. Some even described him as 'a serpent on legs'. The only unreptilian part being that he had colored his skin dark purple, rather than natural shades like green and brown. His hair had been similarly dyed, and three actual reptilian fronds were sewn to his scalp – again, surgery. He was slender fellow- 'snake-like' - with his shifting eyes and his shifty personality.

There was a time that Randall was obsessed with personal glory. He had worked fervently to climb the ranks within the public sector, but, being a rather unlikeable fellow, had never quite made it to the political sphere or even the Game Council. On the hand, two of his old peers, James Sullivan and Mike Wazowski, had established themselves as presenters of the Games and had retained those positions for a considerable length of time. He did envy them, but ultimately, as a person of vision, he recognized that there were other opportunities for power that didn't require popularity votes. Indeed, he found them in Ministry of Internal Affairs a.k.a. The Secret Police.

Five years forward since he had begun his career deep in the Capitol Undergrounds, Randall Boggs, or rather, Dr. Randall Boggs had become quite a person of note. He still didn't get to attend lavish parties, nor did he have tonnes of admirers and supporters, but didn't mean that nobody knew him – by reputation, at least. People often used his name in passing, such as "Don't go around saying that, or Boggs would comelookin' for you" or "My, are you sure of that? Because if it isn't, it's down to Boggs with you." His glaring absence in parties and conventions was a sign of good fortune, because his appearance above ground could only mean bad things. Very bad things.

He was an interrogator, scientist, inventor, torture-master, administrative coordinator and occasional assassin. He had never and will never be the top dog himself, but it didn't bother him too much. His bosses have come and gone, but he had always remained a fixture on the Scare Floor, looming it over with his beady eyes and diabolical mentality.

After the abrupt disappearance and presumed resignation of his yet another boss, Randall prepared himself to meet the next one. The main stage of the Scare Floor was empty save himself, for most of the workers had gone home for the night. The night-shift crew had already reported to their respective wards. His own personal assistant, a squeamish, stuttering fellow called Fungus, had called in sick, leaving his disgruntled self to pick up the slack. As if he wasn't busy enough dealing with all the post-Games scramblings.

He approached one of the many gantries stops available along the Scare Floor, stopping at the one labeled '5.' It was a standard design all over the building, consisting of a wide open space, markings on the ground, and empty metal slots waiting to receive their doors.

On the keypads of one slot, Randall punched in the set of numbers according to the file in hand. He heard a hum as the machines awoke from their slumber, with the rusted chains pulling each another whilst the gears rolled in between them. Down from the chute, a single door emerged, held from its top by a metal hook, quite like a garment on a hanger. It rolled forward as pulled by the ropes, before an arm-like machine lowered it into the rusted door slots. The frames closed themselves around the door, securing it in place. The light above the door, a small circular plate, still glowed red.

Randall then removed the card from the file in his hand and swiped it through the reader. The light above the door turned glowed green. Gingerly, he pushed the door open, revealing a brightly-lit meeting room, one of the many that decorated the Presidential Palace. Luxurious draperies hung down from the marble walls and walnut furniture stood on the carpeted floors. Fine glass ornaments stood behind the teak cabinets, while the corners of the room were occupied by bronze statues. The peculiar part of the scene was this - almost everything in the room had been destroyed.

All the furniture had been tossed and thrown in one direction or another. Wooden splinters had been scattered alongside the glass fragments, and these now were all that remained of the displays in the shattered cabinets. Only one of the four bronze had remained in its original position. The other three were scattered around the room, lying horizontal somewhere in the heap, distinctive dents on each. In the center of all the destruction was a simple wooden chair that had half of it backrest broken off, and on its remainder sat a brooding man in a dark robe, spinning a pistol by its trigger guard. He had been glaring at the double doors when Randall entered through the cabinet.

"I have to commend the engineers," the man garbed in black told him, expressing no surprise whatsoever. "I've been trying to break through that _monstrosity_ for the last three hours and well,-" he gestured towards the huge doors, still bolted shut with only the lightest of bullet dents on it "-you can see how fruitful my time has been."

Randall didn't quite know how to respond to that, but fortunately, the speaker wasn't waiting for an answer. Pushing himself off the battered chair, dusting his robe, and discarding the emptied weapon, Pitch Black rose to his full height to greet the interrogator, asking in the perfect visage of calm, "So, are you here to finish me off?"

"No, quite the opposite actually." Randall registered a strange down his spine - a feeling that had become quite foreign to someone as collected as he. He didn't appreciate feeling this way, but he supposed in response to a Master of fear, it was an achievement to admire rather than to resent. "I'm here to offer you a promotion."

"Well, unless your offering Presidency, it won't be much of a promotion." Pitch made show of a melancholic yawn. "I am the Head Gamemaker, after all."

"You _were_," Randall corrected him mildly. This was the only remark that warranted the slightest of surprise from the pale-faced man. "During the period of your arrest, the news of your demise had already begun its circulation. By now, all people of note would have heard of your - well, your 'execution'."

"And nothing of the good Sergeant's own dirty work? Pity." At least he didn't seem extremely upset, just a little annoyed.

Randall shrugged. "It's the Ministry's policy. We can't retract our own statements, so-"

"-you cover it up. I'm aware of how the Ministry works." His tone was sneering and malicious.

"However, as compensation for our mistaken - _'suspicions'_ -" that gained a scoff from Pitch "-we're willing to offer you a position of equal standing. It'll be away from the public eye, of course, because everyone thinks you're dead, but it has rather lucrative prospects in terms of power, influence and intrigue." Having presented his piece, Randall took a step back and waited for an answer.

Pitch pondered this a moment, his brows furrowing together. "Is this position what I think it is?"

"Well, we do require someone with the relevant experience to manage the Underground's operations, now that the Sergeant's gone and betrayed us," Randall said dryly. "Besides, it seems only fair that after she had stolen your position from you that you should steal hers."

Pitch considered this with his bony fingers pressed against one another. "It's all very attractive, I suppose," he reluctantly conceded at last. "But I have to admit, it's been a long time since I've worked in the Undergrounds. I'm not sure if it still amuses me."

"Perhaps I could change your mind with a tour?" The purple man gestured towards the open cabinet door. Between this option and staying in the horrible, unentertaining room, Pitch obviously chose the former.

The ex-Head Gamemaker and the Interrogator escaped the mess that was the meeting room and returned the dark corridors of the Underground. After the door had been shut behind them, Randall tapped the release button on the keypad. The metal frame securing the door broke apart, allowing the door to be removed from them, eventually carried back to the storage room.

He then led the black-robed fellow through the Scare Floor, down to another corridor of lined with metal scaffolding, holding twin rows of bolted doors. Screams could be heard through the offices and sometimes the breaking of bones. The Undergrounds housed a good many prisons for the criminals of Panem, where some executed, others were tortured and the able-bodied, better-looking ones were put through heavy fear-conditioning and glossus decapitation. The slaves of the Capitol had to come from somewhere.

"As much as I enjoy watching scum trembling in captivity, I hardly find this all that interesting," Pitch remarked to his guide. They had passed many cells, some of glass, others of iron. The more unruly prisoners were kept in force fields, where one touch of its wall was sufficient to ignite near-paralytic levels of pain. The wardens were Peacekeepers and they saluted the two men as they passed, though both held no military rank.

"Have a little faith, Mr. Black," Randall answered with an eerie grin. "With what I have in mind, you'll not be disappointed."

After passing the operating theatres, the red rooms, the torture chambers and the central control unit, they arrived at a simple door. Randall slotted his card through the reader and the red light above the door turned green. Pushing the door open, he beckoned the ex-Gamemaker to follow. "Welcome to the Butterfly Room."

Only now did the boredom disappear from the grey countenance, leaving golden eyes full of intrigue.

The core of the Panem Intelligence had great secrets, and the greatest of all these were in the Butterfly Room. The projects carried out in these halls were of the most confidential in nature and were often of the President's personal request. Only the most senior and loyal of staff were allowed to work here, for nothing that happened in the Butterfly Room could be leaked to the surface. The only exceptions to this were the Avoxes, who, without their tongues, weren't in any position to sell state secrets. Even scientists needed hands to help in their massive projects.

"You shouldn't be all too unfamiliar with this place, Mr. Black, since you have been here years ago," Randall said as they strolled down the corridors. The walls were all lined with protective plastic and the path was dimly-lit, but knowing full well that the ex-Gamemaker was fond of darkness, the purple-skinned man had no fear about his guest getting lost. "You'd find that we have beefed up the security and expanded the premises though. It's quite labyrinth. Without the necessary codes and cards, you could be stuck here for years on end."

"Interesting," the pale man murmured as they passed a glass enclosure. Within it, there was a team of scientists dressed in full protection equipment, all working on strange oblong-shaped stones that glowed in green. They passed many similar enclosures, some containing muttations, others chemicals and machines. They only stopped once they had arrived outside an enclosure where the subject of observation was a human being.

She was a young girl in her teens, though by her piercing vocal cords one might assume her to be a screaming bat instead. Officers, flanking her left and right. struggled to pull her across the enclosure, towards the bed in the centre of the observatory. The girl was strong though, and she managed to yank one arm free to punch one guard in the face. Before she break her other arm free, more guards had already swarmed her, dragging her towards the patient bed where restraints were slapped on her at once, strapping her down for good. The screaming only ceased once someone stuffed a gag in her mouth.

"Finally." Randall made a huff of relief. "I thought they'd never shut her up."

The long river of golden hair spilling down from her head onto the floor was gathered up, wound around a cylindrical device. The shorten frown locks framing her face were, as always, a sharp contrast the yellow length, but these were of no concern to the researchers, Once it was decided that their prisoner was secure, the guard retreated outside, leaving the scientists to carry on with their work. Pitch leaned closer to the glass, scrutinizing the girl tossing and turning on the operating bed. "How did you manage it? I'm pretty sure I watched her die."

"Well, the boy from Three saved her, really," was the clinical answer. "He didn't know it, but after her heart rate fell with poisoning, the oxygen mask he placed over her kept the blood flowing for a little while longer. By the time the hovercrafts got her body, her heart had stopped, but her brain hadn't. Her inner ear functions were still good enough to pick up sound, so they sang that folk song – the one about the flower - then her hair glowed and well -" he nodded at the girl behind the glass, who had fallen limp on the bed after a nurse had injected her with a sedative "-the rest is history." He spun back to Pitch, who still continued to stare at the blonde girl in the enclosure. "I heard that you used to be interested in mutant projects, so I reckoned you'd like this."

"Apparently, I'm not the only one interested in them," Pitch mused quietly, drawing himself away from the glass. "Let me guess - Lotso gave a direct order for this move, didn't he?"

Randall was a little perturbed at how astute his guest's inductions, and his hesitation indicated as much. "Well, the President's a powerful man, but he's not immortal."

"Yet," added the other man sourly.

"You do realize that you are partially to blame for the mess of this year's Hunger Games," Randall pointed out. "The President could have ordered your death regardless of the discovery of Calhourn's desertion."

"And you realize that you're not selling the role very well to me," Pitch countered as he drew his robes more tightly over his shoulders. "I'm not an idiot, just so you know. Lotso spared me not out of mercy, but because of value. He knows better than to lose two of his best people in one day."

The purple man was starting to get impatient. "Well, then what do you want?"

"All mutant projects are to be under my jurisdiction. I used to be in the Eden Project, so I've dealt with …_'Panaceas'_ before," was the answer. Pitch chose the moment to face the glass look-in, just in time to watch as the metal cylinder carrying the golden hair was the lifted up, till it hovered just in front of observation deck on the second floor. Scientists were scuttling about their screens, discussing amongst themselves as they took the readings.

"I'll look into it, but the President calls the shots." Randall wasn't too happy with this demand, but the ex-Gamemaker knew his own worth too well to squander it.

"Speaking of mutants." Pitch airily surveyed their surroundings. "I don't suppose you have the Snow Queen's living body hidden within these walls?"

"The Twelve mutant? No." Randall shook his head. "It probably melted after she got blasted by RD011 – its flames are hot enough to that, after all. But-" oscillating between telling truth of the matter and his better judgment "-we do have something you might want to see."

He led him away from the theatres, taking him back through the corridors. The path taken was twisted, weaving through the dark tunnels before he finally stopped them at a rather inconspicuous door.

Pitch eyed it skeptically. "What's this one?"

"A bit of side-project. We haven't named it yet, because honestly, we have no idea what to do with him." Randal tapped on the wall hard and a holographic keypad appeared, alongside a card reader. Typing in the code and sliding the card in, he stepped away as the door opened with a 'click'. White mist poured through the opening as the panel slid away, revealing a dimly-lit laboratory. Both men stepped in and the door closed itself automatically behind them response. The only sources of light in the darkness were the blue holographic screens, each taking various readings at their assigned timings.

"You Gamemakers thought he was dead – with good reason. Your sensors showed a flat-line. Ours, however,-" Randall pointed a scaly hand towards one of the screen, "-were able to catch it. It's very small, so understandably, those miniaturized trackers couldn't catch it all that well."

Pitch peered critically at the holographic screen with the reader. "Well, it still looks like a flat line."

"Oh, the next heart beat isn't due for-" Randall checked the timer by the screen, "-another minute."

"Huh." Pitch turned to the subject in question, who lay in the crystal prism the way a body lie in its coffin, still, pale and lifeless. Or at least, _looking_ lifeless. His clothes of ice were still stuck on him, hiding the scars that should have taken his life. "Why keep him frozen? I know it slows the blood from leaking through the wounds, but doesn't it damage the tissue?"

"Oh, we're not freezing him." Randall thumbed another screen showing a thermostat. "In a matter of fact, we're heating the room just to keep _him_ from freezing _us_. We suspect that's what's keeping the heart rate slow." This little tidbit led to Pitch approaching the ice prism – or rather, the ice prison. Indeed, all the detectors were stuck on the exterior of the ice block, with heat-emitters and dryers kept close to keep them from being destroyed by the ice. "Our scans have indicated some damage in his tissues due to the cold, but at the same time, it seems that the new cells his body uses to replace them are adapting."

The boy's eyes were peacefully shut, his body as stiff and hard as the substance that surrounded. However, he seemed to radiate a bluish glow of his own, one that caused his ice prison to gain another layer of sleet. It was ironic that the thing made him as still as a statue was the only thing that indicated life at all.

"It's obvious that Ice Witch had a hand in the freezing, but we're still trying to decide if his survival was on her part, or whether had he had any pre-existing conditions to help it," Randall went on, his disinterest markedly differed from Pitch's own curiosity. "But he's as close to an ice mutant as we'll ever get. If we can ever revive him." He muttered the last line.

"He'll be revived. You just need to know how to go about doing it." Pitch peered through the cold crystal, the grin widening on his face reflected back on the gleaming surface.

In a lower tone, he spoke to the sleeping boy, a gleam of sadistic glee in gold rims around his pupils. "Oh, won't we have some fun."

* * *

**S/N: Yes, people. You have read correctly. Rapunzel's alive. Jack's alive, though still refrigerated like a popsicle. I've been trolling you all along. Tada!**

**Before you throw any stones, let me explain why I pretty much lied to all of you (though some of you optimistic folk never gave up hope and some have guessed this). Firstly, because logically, it would be impossible for everyone to be survive (there were only 5, er, 4 bands) so some people had to die. Also, I felt that I should kill off some mains – this is the Hunger Games. The threat is real. I do have the guts to do that, but there were such good storylines that I had planned for both Jack and Rapunzel, so I can't kill them now. The reason why I refuse to hint about their survival was because it'd lessen the impact of their 'departure' and in turn, not quite as effectively bring across the meaning of the Hunger Games within this installment of the series. It's also so that you guys, the readers, would be able to better empathize with the other characters that think that they're dead (this would be happening for a good part of the sequel so…get used to it?)**

**And last but not least – logically, Jack and Rapunzel **_**can't**_** be dead. Rapunzel's a mutant with healing hair and Jack's almost an ice mutant. The Capitol wouldn't **_**let**_** these guys die.**

**So, I doubt you guys will forgive me, but I hope you might understand why I did what I did. I suppose most of you won't trust me anymore, but honestly I have done this trick before (Chap 34, Chap 38) so…peace?**

**Okay, okay, I'm kind of a jerk at times, but I can't regret this. Consider it a litmus test; if you could still continue on reading this story after believing Rapunzel and Jack died in Chap 39 and Chap 40 respectively though you loved these characters dearly, I applaud you for your resilience. People who stopped reading after those chapters due to grief and anger, well … they'll never get this satisfaction. So, congrats!**

**FYI: In Chapter 41, I mentioned that I'd not be reviving Jack via TRUE LOVE's KISS. So far I've kept my promise.**

**Oh, Randal Boggs is the purple chameleon-snakish-monster in _Monsters Inc._ – you know, the bad guy. He'll be around. 'The Scare Floor' and the doors are also borrowed from _Monsters Inc._**

**The Butterfly Room is a reference to _Toy Story 3_, which is actually Lotso's seat of power and also the 'Capitol' equivalent in Sunnyside.**

**Up Next: The Prologue for The Wrath of Five! It's on my profile.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**See you at the sequel! This will be the last that I'm posting on The Odds of Five. It's been fun doing this. I'll come back every now and then to edit out the mistakes when I have time so that any re-readers won't have such a miserable time.**

**Mailbox: **

**Just A Reviewer (Jan 15): Thank you for your kind words! I really did enjoy writing this story, like I hope I'll enjoy the next one. The Best ROTBTFD (it's okay to mess it. It gets pretty weird at times)? Wow. Thanks!**

**Guest (Jan 24): Thank you so much reading this despite the trauma I've given you (now that it has been disproven, I hope you feel better). I guess I do cheat a lot - but I'm glad that you've managed to enjoy this story (though sorry that you weren't study as far your exams. Ooops.) So I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

**Review. Critique. Ask Questions. **

**Oh, and feel free to rage at how mean I am.**


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